The Games We Play
by Reilley
Summary: It was bad enough that the weather was so annoyingly bright and sunny, and his smile only seemed to make it worse. The golden rays scattered on his blond hair, making him glow all the more. His face was so dangerously close to mine, invading my personal space again as usual, making my breath hitch and my face heat up, so I decided to let my instincts control me; I pushed him away.
1. Chapter 1: Interactions

**EDIT: I forgot to add the copyright or whatever. Sorry about that ^-^"**

_**Hetalia (c) Himaruya**_

* * *

Player 1: Arthur [Iggy] Kirkland

Age: Not verified | Sex: M

Gender: Unknown | Location: Unknown

Eye colour: Green | Hair colour: Blond

Skills: computer hacking, espionage, martial arts [incomplete information]

* * *

I closed my eyes, annoyed that light still passed through the translucent skin which were supposed to protect them from the harsh environment of the outside world. I was not the simple man people saw me to be. With my involvement in the underworld, I promised myself one thing—that I would never feel sympathy towards my fellow humans.

At a very young age, I learned that life was a cruel joke and that in order to feel irreplaceable you had to work and earn your position otherwise, people would begin to see you as expendable. Don't get me wrong; people are indeed expendable, disposable—you get the picture—but there are geniuses and prodigies out there. That did not change my point of view on how pathetic life was. Whether they could speak in twenty-four languages, or they could memorize codes after scanning through them; genius or not, the person was still replaceable. That simply is—and will always be—the reality. Their skills, their knowledge, and any musings that passed through their minds casually—those were the ones that could never be replaced.

I raised a—some would describe as thick, or large, although I particularly believe they're average-sized—brow, listening to the heavy footsteps approaching me. That wouldn't be allowed, where I worked in. _Bang!_ The gun would shoot the person in the chest, puncturing their lungs causing an instantaneous yet messy death.

Cracking an eye open, I stared up at the man in front of me, with his sun-kissed tan, electrifying blue eyes, and messy dirty blond hair. "Can I help you?" I asked in a not-so-welcoming tone. It was lunch period and I clearly did not appreciate people bothering me during times when I sought peace and quiet from my duties as the student council president. I _especially_ did not appreciate troublemaking, code of conduct-offending idiots, such as the man right in front of me.

Pearl-white teeth grazed over his pale-red lip as he continued staring at me, anxiety shown all over his baby blue eyes. "Artie—" he said in an attempt to start the conversation before I rudely interrupted him.

"Mr. Jones, I would appreciate it if you called me by my name. We are not acquaintances, nor do we interact with each other socially enough by giving such…nicknames," I said in a clipped voice, sneering at the last word. This person was irrelevant to me; therefore I did not really see the purpose in acting socially-acceptable around him.

"Jeez, fine, _Arthur_, I was just wondering if you could tutor me in English class," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he returned my annoyed glare. His voice was low and smooth—not as low as mine, due to the usual upbeat tone he had in his voice, although it was low nonetheless. If one would hear him talk, they'd be able to tell that he was trying to cover up his southern twang, although he would still drag his vowels ever so slightly. What _did_ I know about this man? Ah, yes, his name was Alfred F. Jones and he transferred to our private school a little over a month ago, I believe. From what I've heard, he was quite popular with everyone, although some did secretly loathe him. I would understand why, since not everyone can tolerate such a bright, annoying, and obnoxious attitude. He was quite the intellect, seeing as how he has tested out of three university-coursed Science classes, and has finished taking all of the Maths programs offered in school. He was admitted here as a special case, although he _did_ have weaknesses in his academics. An example of that would be English. This—what everyone called him as—'boy genius', has failed English literature three times, completing one out of four required English credits in order to graduate. I could have laughed at that if I cared, although it took too much effort. Those were the basic information written on his school record.

Taking a glance at the book I held in my hand, I cracked my other eye open, letting out a sigh as I snapped it shut, placing it in my satchel. "There are various posts on the bulletin board outside the guidance office, as well as on the school website, recommending you to many other _capable_ tutors," I muttered, hoping he'd understand what I meant. I simply had no time for such mundane things like tutoring.

"So?" Upon hearing that, my hopes were crashed as I let out another irritated sigh.

"It _means_ that I _can't tutor you _because _I'm busy and I have a life outside of the student council_," I said as I tried not to snap at him. I don't really know if anyone could relate to me, but school—especially the people in it—loved testing my patience. I could even argue that it's gone and that I'm simply indifferent.

"Aw, that sucks! I heard you're amazing and that you're a wide-reader so I hoped you'd teach me your awesome ways, but I guess not," he groaned. _What kind of micro-penis do you have for you to realize that I do not want anything to do with you, git?_

"Flattery will get you nowhere in life, Mr. Jones. I appreciate the lovely compliments, although I believe you heard wrong," I huffed as I covered my half-eaten sandwich and shoved it inside my satchel. Honestly, I believe the only thing I could not ruin with my cooking skills would be things such as sandwiches, salads and cereal. People must think I was a healthy foods-freak and that I didn't have much of an appetite, but really, I simply could not cook without everyone criticizing my meals therefore I stopped bringing cooked meals to school.

"But you love reading classics by Morley," Alfred blurted out a little too quickly as he eyed my satchel.

I narrowed my eyes in response to his observation, surprised that he could even tell that Callaghan was one of the famous authors of the early twentieth century, along with Fitzgerald. In all honesty, I never expected him to recognize such names in literature. Earlier that morning, a friend of mine handed me a book, recommending it to me since he thought I'd be drawn by the plot. _Strange Fugitive_ was in my list of books to read, although it wasn't particularly the first one. "That's not any of your business, arsehole. I'd appreciate it if you left me alone now since I have more pressing matters to see to."

"Sorry, but I'm not leaving you alone until you teach me," he replied, crossing his arms as he remained in his spot.

I scoffed, taking a look around, only to realize that the cafeteria was still filled with chaos caused by students who were standing on tables, shouting, screaming out lyrics of bubble-gum pop songs, causing my patience to dwindle all the more. Perfect…just…perfect. Where were the teachers that were supposedly on cafeteria duty? "Alright then," I began as I quickly got up and carried my satchel, "I guess I'll be going, then."

"Oh no, you don't," Alfred said as he instantly grabbed my wrist, preventing me from leaving. He flashed a smug, toothy smile as I tried to pull my wrist away from his vice-like grip.

And that was the last straw, my friends. I cherished my personal space more than anything in this materialistic world and since this stupid American decided to invade that, my patience snapped as I twisted my arm, sidestepped, and took a step forward, my arm connecting on his jaw as I pushed down and knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. Scowling down on him, I nudged him with my foot to check if he was alright before walking away.

I risked my position as the student council president, but during that point, I did not give a damn. He intruded my personal space without my permission, and even if they won't allow me to claim that as an act of self-defence, I was sure that I could pull some strings and make the school forget entirely about the whole situation. I did not require high school education since I've learned and tested out of several grades, but what I did require was a good cover.

It was all I could do since operations were currently slow and quite uninteresting.

* * *

**Hey guys! This is my first time writing a multi-chaptered fic in English, so please feel free to correct my mistakes. It's currently unedited so I'm really sorry for the grammatical and spelling errors. I'll most likely update every other week because a) my parents are completely against writing and b) my parents want me to spend time in the sun since it's summer. Ew, the sun.**

**I've never actually read Strange Fugitive by Callaghan, because my parents don't like it when I read either, but I'm really interested in it. Callaghan's Canadian so woo~ Canadian pride go!**

**Should I continue this? I find the whole idea rather dry so let me know what you think. :) I'm also worried that Alfred and Arthur are OOC so really, I need to know what you guys think. :\**

**- Reilley**


	2. Chapter 2: The Second Player

**I promise I will edit this for grammatical/spelling errors soon enough****. It's currently 2 in the morning and I'm tired so I'm sorry if the quality's a little, well, shitty. ;-; At least the update's sooner than expected, right?**

_**Hetalia (c) Himaruya**_

* * *

It was six-thirty in the morning when I received a text message on my phone, from my 'older brother', telling me not to accept any gifts that day. I did not understand the reasoning behind his message, although I did understand that the issue was sensitive and that he couldn't explain much. Companies could track every single text message sent out to every single individual, and normally, Alastair wouldn't attempt to contact me this way if it weren't for an emergency in which he'd lost his valued computer.

Oh Alastair, how could you be so careless?

I arrived to school that day at 7AM, opening the student council office so that I could continue working on some paperwork required for the next school event. The school didn't have fundraisers; it had parties. The school was filled with rich people and had too much pride for fundraisers.

Opening up my best friend which a normal person would refer to as a piece of high-technological device, known as the laptop, I turned it on, logging into my student account instead of my private one, in order to prevent access to the information stored in the lightweight device. I'd rather I kept the files which I used for business purposes in the underworld with me, so I could destroy it before anyone could hack into it. Even if I wasn't able to destroy the device, I had already programmed the laptop to go on an emergency shut off, deleting all the memory saved in it. The information would already be placed in a backup drive in the hands of my other 'brothers' while I would be left to tend to the situation.

A knock on my door caused me to look up, surprised to see that Alfred Jones was once again there to bother me. I found it strange that I did not hear Alfred's footsteps like I did during our encounter in the cafeteria, but I let the thought pass, thinking that I was simply too preoccupied with Alastair's message for me to pay attention to my surroundings.

"Artie—"

"I believe it's _Arthur…_or are you too stupid to realize that?" I snapped at him.

"Whatever, anyway, I'm here because I have an English essay due at fourth period and I need someone to revise it. The tutoring offer's still up for grabs, and I'm willing to pay you, so I'll leave my USB here and just…go, I guess. I don't want to annoy you or anything." _Oh trust me, dear, you don't even have to do anything. Your breathing _alone _does a fine job of that._

I eyed the USB before plugging it into my laptop. "I suppose it wouldn't take me as much time," I sighed as I motioned him over to one of the couches. "Take a seat. I'll be done proofreading in about five minutes."

"Seriously? Dude that's awesome! Thanks," he beamed, dropping on the couch as he placed his feet up on the table. Charming.

I gave him a short glare, my left eye twitching at his lack of manners before I rolled my eyes and opened the file so I could proofread it. I supposed Alfred would stop bothering me enough if I did him a favour, and so I decided to read over his essay. Unfortunately for me, he hadn't learned from the incident about three weeks earlier and decided to bother me all the more.

To say I was baffled was an understatement. He wrote a full essay about the major themes in Shakespeare's _Othello_, and focused majorly on feminism. He was not close-minded about the issue, nor did he go off-topic with his long, body paragraphs. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if he just bought the essay online instead of writing it himself. I could have ran a program, checking to see if he plagiarized it, although that would take too much effort for a person I did not really care about.

"Impressed?" he smirked at me. Ugh, that smile…that bright, toothy, positive smile which had the ability to light up the whole room utterly pissed me off. For some reason, I wanted to wipe that smile off his face and in that moment, I knew that I hated him. Alfred F. Jones—whoever he was…I loathed him.

"Indeed, for your mother seems to have an excellent grasp of each of the characters in the play. She's quite the stellar woman," I retorted, closing the word file and ejecting the USB drive.

Alfred's smile was replaced by a frown, marking my success. "My mother's dead," he murmured, looking down as he placed his feet on the ground and shuffled uneasily. How cute.

"That's nice, sweetheart," I replied, giving him a fake smile before tossing the USB drive back at him. People would normally apologize at situations like these, but I simply couldn't take out pity and sympathy when they did not exist at all in my vocabulary. I'd lost my parents too, but not once did I grieve over their deaths. Emotions were a weakness if you allowed them to weigh you down and I simply could not do that.

"Whatever," Alfred said, picking up the USB which ended up hitting him on the forehead and falling to the ground. "Here's a thank you present for proofreading it," he said, pulling out a container filled with food wrapped in aluminium foil. "You should eat it while it's still hot. I cooked it before going to school."

Cocking a brow, I tapped the container with the eraser of my pencil. "What's in it?"

"A hamburger steak! It tastes good! I noticed you haven't been eating lunch properly so I thought I'd prepare you something." Affection…how disgusting.

Truth be told, I've never heard of the meal before. I'm not quite fond of steak, or any type of meat for the matter, but I needed the protein in order to keep my energy levels high and meat's simply the quickest source.

I blinked before ushering him to leave.

"Wait, let me know if you like i—"

"Goodbye Mr. Jones," I sighed, giving him a slight wave.

Honestly, this was going to be a long, day.

* * *

It was about three-thirty when I finished working on some paperwork. With a sigh, I got up, storing everything in my bag before I began my trek home. Avoiding any kind of social contact, I quickly nodded off to the rest of the student council members, wishing them a great day as always, before quickly walking away.

"Arthur!" And once again, my hopes were crushed.

I continued walking, hoping that I could use the excuse that I did not hear the idiot calling my name, despite his usual loud voice. My plan was going well until said idiot began repeating my name, following me around the campus several times before I finally came to a stop.

"Arthur! Thank god! I finally caught you," said the idiot.

Clenching my fists, I turned around to face the man who has been following me all during that time. "What do you want?"

"Did you uh…like the…you know," Alfred gestured, pointing at my satchel.

I figured he was referring to the lunch he made me earlier, although that was just an assumption. As for the lunch, I didn't even bother eating it as I was given clear instructions not to accept any gifts. For all I know, there could be poison in that meal and Alfred had been planning to kill me. Trust no one in the syndicate, except your own blood—that was the rule we abide by.

"I'd like to live long, Jones"—that was a lie—"so I didn't even bother with your heart attack-inducing meal," I huffed, pulling out the container and shoving it in his hands before giving him a dismissive wave and walking away.

"What? Aw, come on! It's healthy! Arthur!" I heard him yell after me.

I wished he would ignore me and not chase me once again, since I didn't really want to sprint in order to get away from him. I was a short distance runner, and although my speed was exceptional compared to anyone else's in the school, I could lose quickly in long distance running. I'd rather not waste my energy running.

"Come on, have you at least changed your mind on the tutoring thing?" he asked, running to my side.

"No, and I have no plans of doing so," I sighed as I continued walking.

There was a pregnant pause until my phone rang, causing Alfred to flinch beside me. I pulled out my phone, staring at the caller ID before raising an eyebrow at Alfred.

"Oh right sorry," he mumbled, walking away as I took my call.

"Alastair," I muttered under my breath.

_"You idiot! Did I not tell you to reject all presents today?"_ I cringed at his tone of voice, his accent thick as he continued yelling on the phone. I held my phone a few centimeters away from my ear in order to protect my hearing.

"You weren't exactly clear as to what presents you were talking about. The only thing I received was a cooked lunch and I was rather interested in eating it, but because of your orders, I decided not to," I replied, rolling my eyes.

_"Niles received the backup file, but our latest transaction record has been copied and stolen."_ What?

"With who? Ms. Arlovskaya, I presume?" I asked, massaging my temples.

_"Oh no, Arthur, not with Arlovskaya,"_ he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "_OF COURSE IT'S WITH ARLOVSKAYA YOU IDIOT! Listen kid, I need you to track down whoever stole the information."_

"That's stupid, considering how I don't even know where the file was stolen from."

"_It was stolen from your very own personal computer."_ WHAT?

As though he heard my thoughts turning into a jumble of words, wondering and asking, he repeated, _"I said it was stolen from your very own personal computer, kid. I know your data's erased right now completely, but I'm currently too preoccupied with shit here to babysit you and look over your shoulder to see if you're doing shit correctly. Reinstall the programs, add whatever's required, and get me those files. Also, dispose of the person who stole the information. Prove you're a Kirkland, Arthur."_

And with that, he hung up, making me glare at my phone. I've already proven who I was a long time ago. I was a Kirkland, and my brothers and I carried that name with pride. We were well respected in the underworld, and some even looked up to us with envy. We were a formidable force, us Kirklands, and nothing could ever change that fact. No one could destroy us, for the destruction of the Kirklands would result to the destruction of many companies, certain politicians, and several other people.

"Arthur, how are things?" Alfred asked as he saw me stare at my phone with the harsh expression on my face.

"Perfect," I replied tastelessly.

"Ssssooooo does that mean—"

"No, I'm even more busy now _thanks_ to _someone_," I hissed at him.

"Well, if you need help I'll be happy to—"

"No."

"But I'm actually really good with computers and—"

"No," I told him firmly.

Hold on. _How did he find out about my computer?_

I must have muttered that out loud since his reply was, "I heard what the guy was saying on the other line. Sorry for eavesdropping. I only heard about a file being stolen and your problem with your computer, I swear!" In that moment, I knew he was lying. I didn't know if he had the mentality of a child, but I was seriously hoping he did not hope for me to actually believe his ruse.

I narrowed my eyes at him, placing him in his spot as though he were a convict on trial. He shuffled uneasily as he gave me a sheepish grin, those azure blue eyes looking apologetic. _Calm down, Arthur, deal with the git later._ "I'm leaving," I told him as I walked away.

This time, he didn't follow me. He remained in his spot as I took a few steps back, and as I turned around, out of the corner of my vision, I saw his tense shoulders drop and a total look of relief in his eyes.

* * *

It was about three in the morning when I managed to restore all the information on my computer, adding more security programs and encrypting each file with a different passcode. Contacting Niles was a pain in the arse and getting him to send the files was even more of a hassle. The government tracked everything lately and covering up our tracks was getting more and more difficult. I wasn't much of a computer whiz to begin with. I steal and gather information; I don't keep them. My brothers just loved passing the work around.

I suppose I should begin explaining about our…family business. We steal information, keep them, and sell them to those who were willing to pay us with the correct amount. We were also hired to sabotage government operations, assassinate important figures, manage illegal dealings, etcetera, etcetera—you get it. Our clients involve famous politicians from around the world, as well as several crime lords, private clients, and sometimes, different government organizations.

I handled everything which involved gathering, and dealing information. Niles handled assassinations, computer hackings, and theft. Aiden made sure everything was saved in our main system and that no one breached into our main databank. He's also an unlicensed doctor, capable of performing surgeries for several people involved in the underworld way too much for them to access public medical care without risking information. Morgan's job was very similar to mine; however her ways were more vicious compared to mine. Alastair was the jack-of-all-trades, master of none, but he was an amazing leader and kept everything under control. Had it not been for Alastair, we all would have attempted to kill each other at some point. He was the person who managed everything; the person who came up with the idea of destroying the syndicate we came from and building up our own which have destroyed several other organizations like our own. That summed up the founding leaders of our syndicate.

With a sigh, I took several more gulps of Redbull before crushing the can and tossing it on the blue recycling bin. Only a few hours ago, I wanted to pass out on the bed and sink into unconsciousness, forgetting about everything, even for just a short period of time. Sadly, sleep was only one of the few luxuries that were denied to me from time to time. I currently had the energy of five supernovas and even if I tried to fall asleep at this point, I simply wouldn't able to.

Due to Alfred's earlier suspicious actions, I decided to do a little background check on the idiot to see what he had been up to. I decided that it was better to be safe than sorry at that point. It turned out little boy genius really was a computer whiz. By thirteen, he was a weapons consultant for several companies and has developed a number of weapons that I'd have to admit were my favourites. He has several masters' degrees and by fifteen, he's developed several bombs which were kept secret to the public. He's literally been blasted to the moon and back, and has done several projects for NASA.

Golden Boy's records were a little too clean for me to remain at ease; everyone has done at least _something_ in their damn lives. I simply did way more than the average human. Think; if he hasn't done something wrong, then why were his accomplishments kept a secret? Why was his anonymity forced upon him? My skills were nothing compared to the boy wonder, but after a few minutes, I managed to hack into the government databanks and search for his criminal record. Bingo.

When he was ten, he's performed one of the biggest crimes of the decade, managing to steal five hundred million dollars from several banks and introducing a virus which deleted any information which could have led to him being the prime suspect. The only problem was that he trusted way too many people about it and only a year after, his own brother ratted him out to the police. He was let off the hook with the US government thinking that his skills could be put into better use. It seems as though he had to perform military service for three years overseas as punishment for his crime and he's returned just a few months ago. He's also done some classified work with the federal government.

A few weeks before enrolling to my school, he destroyed a crime organization, taking their money and giving it to the banks he stole from back when he was ten.

This was a game changer.

I wouldn't be surprised if he knew what we were up to. We didn't exactly keep our operations a secret unless it was required by the client.

What did Alfred F. Jones want with us?

* * *

Player 2: Alfred Fitzgerald Jones

Age: 17 | Sex: M

Gender: Unknown | Location: Unknown

Eye colour: Blue | Hair colour: Blond

Skills: computer hacking, weapons development [unauthorized access to further information denied]

* * *

**Whoa, hey guys! Here's some more unedited work. ;-; I'm sorry if the whole plot is inaccurate since a) as much as I love watching documentaries/shows about crime, I do not have a clear grasp on what situation is realistic and b) I'm not involved in organized crime so you can't expect me to be accurate about it. If you want to correct me, then by all means, please go ahead. :) So yeah, Al's one of those genius kids we read about on the internet or on books and magazines that make me want to cry because I haven't accomplished anything in my 14 years of existence.**

**I managed to get on the computer and get typing because I was motivated and my parents weren't home most of the time during the last two days.**

**Hah look I sneaked in a 'your mom' joke in there. I will get shot for this.**

_**Replies**_

**DrakesGirl5: Ah, well, I'm quite attached to my first language, English being my third and all, but since I do live in Canada now, I had to suck it up and be fluent (**hah, I don't exactly have the best grammar and spelling so I doubt you can consider me being fluent in English**) in it. I still write it in my mother tongue first, and then I translate it to English afterwards. It's a little troublesome, but it's fun. ^^ This way, I won't forget about my first language.**

**Thank you for the feedback, you guys. You fuel my inspiration. :')**

**See you next week! Please continue to review~**

**- Reilley**


	3. Chapter 3: The First Spectator

**You guessed it; this chapter is also unedited so I'm sorry for any mistakes. I think I'll be marking each unedited chapter so that when I'm not feeling lazy, I'll know which chapters require proofreading.**

_**Hetalia (c) Himaruya**_

* * *

The air was hot and humid as I tapped repeatedly on my desk, unable to stay still due to the massive amounts of caffeine I've ingested through the day in order to stay awake, as I pretended to pay attention to the usual droning of the teacher teaching a boring math lesson. Updating files and checking my private e-mails after I did a quick background check on Alfred left me no time for sleep.

Taking a look around the room, I observed everyone as I sat at the very back of the class. Several students were flicking eraser bits at each other, and some were passing notes as the teacher continued to teach the class. The teacher had an irritated look on her face as she grabbed the meter stick, wielding it as it hit the board, causing a loud noise which made the class jump.

I rolled my eyes as I leaned back on my chair, looking up at the ceiling as I tuned out the teacher's voice and the rest of my surroundings, imagining a moment of solitude. Dealing with people was such a tiring activity and I simply could not understand how extroverted people only seemed to gain more energy as they conversed with people. Smiling alone at a single person already took way too much effort, let alone smiling to everyone and keeping up cheerful personalities.

One of the reasons I never bothered with social networking sites or blogging sites was because it involved interaction with people. I'd rather just come home, do work, read a book or watch an episode of a good series, do some more work, eat, and go to bed. That was my usual after-school routine if I was not assigned a task or an operation.

My boredom managed to trigger unwanted memories of back when we worked for a fence as lowly pickpockets. I was barely eight by the time I mastered the art of pickpocketing. We'd usually be accompanied by an adult from the syndicate, acting as our 'parent' as we ran around public areas, getting to work. They made sure we didn't keep anything we stole and that we kept up with the daily quota.

Aiden usually stole the least, and then Niles as he was very violent as a child. The two were often caught stealing, but they were quick to respond, knowing which lies to spout. Alastair for some reason always managed to keep some money for himself, and Morgan collected the most objects. Morgan would bump into two nearby strangers at once, stealing most from the man who looked wealthier and hiding the items quickly before she gave a scared look and pointed at the other man, causing a fight between the two strangers. By then, Morgan would have managed to slip out of the scene and blend back into the crowd as she skipped away merrily.

I was very casual, heading to the most crowded places and walking beside adults, pulling out whatever I could in the area before looking around, pretending as though I was lost, and before an adult was able to approach me to wonder what was wrong, I was already running away, pretending as though I have found my guardian.

The bell rang, causing a mass of students to jump up, quickly pack their things, and flood the hallways, swarming like bees exiting their hive. I remained sitting in my seat, waiting for a few minutes until the halls weren't as crowded as when the bell had just rang.

My target was Alfred. I needed to know what he knew about our business and if he were a significant threat which required immediate attention; if he were the one that stole information from my beloved computer or not. If my suspicions were correct, then that would make me hate him all the more. Alastair would have to make the decision between killing him or torturing him for more information and then killing him. Either way, I'd love to watch him beg for mercy during his last few seconds. It would give me the satisfaction of seeing him look weak and pathetic instead of having that bright—and at times—smug smile.

When I was sure that the hallway wasn't filled with teenagers pushing themselves through crowds, I packed my things and walked out of the classroom. From there, I knew exactly where to find the idiot, knowing he'd be by my locker to bother me once again, as he did every single day.

Alfred was chatting with a transfer student from Korea who seemed a little too excited about everything. He had dark brown hair, with a strand sticking up and curling at the end. If my memory served me correctly, his name was Im Yong Soo. He seemed to possess the same amount of hyperactivity as the American, only he expressed his hyperactive behaviour in ways that aggravated others even more so than the American.

The two were both being extremely loud, making jokes that only the two of them seemed to understand, which made me roll my eyes and head towards my locker. I would rather not approach him since my sudden interest in the American idiot would only make my actions suspicious. I'd rather not change my attitude so quickly and I knew that it would take some time for me to start treating him decently.

Without even looking at my lock, I twisted the dial and entered my locker combination expertly. I've dealt with so many locks in my career that my familiarity with all the types of locks and keypads was exceptional. It wasn't a skill per se, although it's one of the attributes I acquired over time; memorization took no effort for me.

"Hey Artie!" Oh, _now_ the idiot decides to notice my presence.

I shot him a glare in reply before storing my books and binders filled with homework I didn't plan on doing in the locker. "Jones," I muttered, underneath my breath in order to make him feel—at the very least—acknowledged.

I could have sworn I heard him mutter, "Progress," before shaking his head and beaming another smile. "So, how was your—"

"Boring, exhausting, and aggravating, thank you very much for asking," I replied, interrupting him.

"It won't hurt for you to say 'and how was your day,' back." Alfred sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance.

A tiny smirk played on my lips as I slammed my locker shut and began walking away. "I have no intention of doing so, nor am I interested in your daily activities, Jones," I chuckled.

He merely rolled his eyes at my reply before walking up beside me and attempting to strike another conversation. "So you know mid-term exams are coming up and I was wondering if—"

"Sure."

"For real? You don't even know what I'm saying yet! You never let me finish!" Even without looking, one would almost be able to see the pout he had on his face through his voice alone. It was indeed adorable how Alfred reacted that way, but not in the sense that made me feel bad. He had the mentality of a five-year-old, the brain of a super genius, and the sharp features of a supermodel, which was such a sad combination.

"Well if you're talking about tutoring and creating an exam review, then I'll gladly help. It would be a shame to see you fail once again." _Considering of course, you're simply playing dumb and choosing to fail the course in order to keep your cover here in this school. Come on, Jones, what are you planning? Who hired you?_

"Awesome! Thank you so much," Alfred exclaimed as he made a move to give me a hug of gratitude.

I ducked, crouching before sidestepping out of his reach so that he wouldn't latch himself onto me. "Jones, if you hadn't learned from last time, I attempted to convey the message that I hated people who invaded my personal space."

"Alright! Then I'll just…thank you from where I am…one meter away…"

"I appreciate the one and only wise judgement you've ever made."

"Hey!"

I gave him a half smile, my expression filled with arrogance as I gave an answer, "I speak of the truth"—which was ironically a lie—"and nothing but the truth. I have some free time today, so you can come over and I'll tutor you."

"Aw really? Like right now? I have football"—the _American _kind—"practice right now that I'm actually late for. D'you think you can wait for an hour or two?" he asked, giving me a sheepish smile.

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes once again as I made him shift uneasily as he waited for a response. "I'm not one for patience, Jones," I sighed, shaking my head, "but I believe I could make an exception for this current situation."

"Awesome! You can sit by the bleachers and wait there. Can you watch my stuff and hand me my water bottle when I ask?"

"No."

"Thanks! I knew I could count on you!" he exclaimed, ignoring my previous response.

* * *

Alfred's football practice did not interest me in the slightest. Even as I felt several pairs of eyes staring at me, I remained focused on my laptop, typing down whatever information I could remember regarding the Arlovskaya file.

Ms. Natalya Arlovskaya was a private client of ours who bought information from time to time. Our previous transaction with her however, was a special one as she did not require information regarding her target but rather, of her own stepbrother. Natalya trusted us enough to use her real name in our business transactions—a bad decision, although it gave us more access to her information. As the CEO to a major European company, she has performed several transactions and managed illegal international shipments, earning her connections as well as a famous name in the underworld. Her success was self-established, not depending on hired workers to do the dirty work for her. I'd have to admit that for a rich girl like her, her accomplishments as well as kill counts were quite impressive.

I continued typing away until I noticed an upcoming object in my peripheral vision. As a child, I learned that sudden movements in a human's peripheral vision should never be underestimated, as those would often trigger our instincts to become more alert as well as sharpen our senses. As for my current situation, I merely slammed my laptop shut, bringing my forearm up in order to protect myself from said upcoming object which happened to be a football.

It took a great deal of effort for me not to charge at them right then and there. As mentioned earlier, I was never the patient type, nor will I ever be.

Clenching my fists, I shoved my laptop in my bag before grabbing the football and looking up to see an apologetic Alfred and his friends roughhousing. I let out an exasperated sigh, tightening my grip on the football before aiming it straight towards Alfred's—sadly—helmet-protected face. In one fluid motion, I swung my arm, calm and controlled, as I sent the football flying, spiraling straight for the idiot's face.

I would be lying if I said his reflexes were slow, though they weren't as quick compared to my own. He caught the football with both of his hands, securing it tight as he kept his arms folded before he straightened up, staring at me with wide eyes. Surely he didn't think I couldn't throw a simple spiral, which I found quite insulting.

I kept my expression stoic—uninterested and bored, even, as I kept myself from shouting profanities for throwing the football at me. "Can we go now?" I asked flatly.

"Uh, yeah, practice is over," he replied. Hesitating, he began, "Hey Artie, I'll try throwing the football at you. I just want to see if you can catch it."

"What? No!" I replied—too late as the football spiraled towards me. I prepared to catch the ball before it could hit me, when a gloved hand beat me to it and caught the ball expertly.

Fuck, this is troublesome.

"I wasn't expecting you to screw around, kid," a deep, familiar voice, with a heavy Scottish accent called out.

With a sigh, I slowly turned to my side to see a pair of piercing acidic-green eyes much similar to my own. He was dressed casually, wearing black jeans, leather boots, and a white shirt underneath his leather jacket, making me wish that he did not take my Harley for a run like he always did. His flaming red hair was messier than usual, sticking up in several areas—probably from the helmet he used, which made me realize that the chances of him not messing with my Harley were slim—and he was sporting a cut on his eyebrow. He blew at my face, making me inhale the pungent odour of the cigarette he was smoking as he sat casually on the bench.

I coughed, using my hand to fan the smoke away from my face before I glared at him. "I _wasn't,_" I growled at him.

"Hey Artie, is there something wrong?" Alfred asked as he approached the two of us, toying with his helmet. "Who is he?"

"Yeah _Artie,_ who is he?" Alastair smirked, tossing the football lightly at Alfred.

"I'm Alfred," he replied with a smile.

"He's Alastair," I introduced dryly as I crossed my arms.

Alastair narrowed his eyes, bringing a hand up to flick me on the forehead. "Yeah, I'm Alastair Kirkland; Arthur's _older_ brother," he mumbled, throwing his cigarette on the ground. That wasn't necessarily true. Alastair was younger than he claimed to be—probably around a few years older than me, if I actually could remember my legitimate date of birth. I believe only one of us could actually recall their date of birth, but Alastair could claim to be older since he did seem older. He was taller, stronger, and he gave off the impression that he was older and had authority. He could intimidate even those who had more power, although he'd rather be informal and laid-back.

"Dude, seriously?" Alfred asked. Turning to me, Alfred frowned, "Hey Artie, how come you've never told me about your siblings before?" _Siblings? He's only met Alastair!_

Alastair seemed to catch what Alfred said as well, twitching an eyebrow up in response. I gave him a knowing glance and a tiny nod, making him aware of my suspicions.

I turned back to Alfred, raising an eyebrow at him. "I don't see how it's any of your business as I'm not obligated to tell you about my personal life anyway," I replied in a clipped tone.

"Well, kid, bring your boyfriend over and have him eat dinner with us," Alastair nudged me, his eyes telling me to go along with his plan.

It was an absurd plan, since Alastair couldn't cook well either.

"Morgan's here with Aiden and Niles." _She was?_ "And Morgan's preparing dinner as we speak."

"B-but we aren't dating," Alfred stammered out silently, shaking his head.

"Kid, just come over so you could get to know your boyfriend's private life," Alastair hummed in a casual tone before getting up.

I followed Alastair regarding the suspicion that he did in fact use my motorcycle and because I was worried for the sake of my baby's condition in the hands of anyone who did not possess the name Arthur Kirkland. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw my black Harley parked in front of the school, obnoxiously taking up to parking spaces which were supposedly for invalid car parking. I pressed a hand to my temples as I held back my willpower not to choke Alastair and leave him on the ground for raccoons to feed on. Actually, I would gain more if I killed Alastair and sold his organs to the black market, although that would be rather uncharacteristic of me. Several people in the underworld would be willing to pay millions for the death of a Kirkland.

Alfred let out a low whistle behind me, admiring my Harley. "Sweet ride, Alastair."

"It's not mine kid," Alastair smiled smugly, the ever-so-arrogant glinting in his eyes present. "It's your boyfriend's."

"Bro, we aren't dating," Alfred chuckled uneasily as he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't even think he swings that way."

"He doesn't," Alastair replied before laughing and placing his helmet—actually _my _helmet—on, and sitting on my bike.

"Alastair, I swear to god—"

"You _have_ one?"

"No I don't, shut _up!_ Should you ever leave even the tiniest scratch on my Harley, I swear I will—"

"Yeah, yeah, murder me and leave my corpse on the ground to decay."

"_What?"_

"Arthur, this is you we're talking about."

"I wouldn't do that because doing that would take way too much effort and you simply aren't worth the time..."

"_Yeah, yeah,_ shut the fuck up," he sighed, rolling his eyes. Before turning on the engine and speeding away, he muttered, "Anyway, be home by dinner and bring the lad with you." _Not a scratch or I will make sure you experience hell, Alastair._

When Alastair was completely out of sighed, Alfred whispered. "Wow, nice ride."

"Stop drooling over it. It's disgusting," I snapped. "Get your shit so we can leave."

"Aight, I'm going."

* * *

**Weee, I'm sorry this took so long! My parents confiscated my laptop so I can't write when I want to. Writing in Arthur's POV is very restricting, because I have no clue how to describe the hot ass that is Alastair without making Arthur sound like he's attracted to him. Then again, they aren't actually related by blood so I don't know... :\**

**The main pairing will still remain as USUK so everyone please calm down. Arthur isn't actually straight. Everyone just assumes he is since he's never shown any attraction towards males before. [Oh hey that's kind of like me. ^^] Anyway, Alastair loves teasing Arthur as you can see.**

**Please review guys! I totally appreciate every single one of them.**

**- Reilley**


	4. Chapter 4: Welcome the Challengers

**This chapter is way too long. It's by far the shittiest one too, I think. I'm sorry guys, I'm tired, and I just came home from a family trip to Quebec. I've been to Old Quebec before, but I have to say, Montreal's just as beautiful. This chapter is also unedited. I'm sorry.**

**_EDIT: _Aiden and Niles are _not_ fraternal twins. They're identical twins. Sorry.**

_**Hetalia (c) Himaruya**_

* * *

I found the walk on the way home rather peaceful, as I would always snap a glare at Alfred whenever he tried to strike a conversation, intimidating him. In response, he would look down and remain silent as though he were some kicked stray puppy. Did I find it adorable? No, in fact I found it quite pitiful that a grown man like Alfred was capable of making the expression. Did I feel terrible? He could drop dead at my feet right at that moment and I would most likely burst into a fit of laughter.

He must have found the silence maddening as he once again tried to create a small chat. "You've got an interesting brother. He's so badass and cool—"

I interrupted him with a glare—my worst one that day—which effectively silenced him and began walking faster.

"Dude, what's your problem? What's gotten you in such a sour mood? You're sister's here with your two other brothers, so you should be happy." _Not quite, Jones. Kirklands lived in several countries for a reason and they would rarely come together unless there was a serious matter._

I hid my laughter as Alfred slipped again, revealing too much about what he knew. Strike one: Alfred knew about the information theft which occurred on my computer, under my control. Strike two: he knew that Morgan was indeed a girl, although the name was gender neutral and that it was more common a name for a male, rather than a female. Strike three: he's way too desperate and way too interested in my affairs. Three strikes, Alfred F. Jones, you're out.

"Oh believe me, Jones," I said dryly, "I'm ecstatic."

* * *

Knowing my siblings, they wouldn't have waited for us to arrive so we could all have dinner as a family, so on the way, we managed to get some food at a burger joint and eat it on the way home. Alastair wouldn't actually make everyone wait for dinner as he simply wasn't the type to force everyone into doing that. As long as there was food, everything was fine. Everyone would eat when they felt like it.

Upon arriving at the neighbourhood filled with gigantic mansions and manicured lawns, I noticed several vehicles parked in my large-enough driveway, making me groan as I placed a hand on my forehead. Of course they'd choose to bring such eye-catching vehicles with them. I forgot they all adored flaunting how much power they possessed.

"Dude," Alfred said, staring at the cars with wide eyes.

"Not a word, Jones," I sighed as we continued to approach the house.

The vibrant red paint of Aiden's 1964 DB5 was glinting in the afternoon sun, making me scowl as I brought a hand up to protect my eyes. Niles' green Morgan Aero was parked right beside Aiden's, and there was my Harley—safe, and scratch-free. Next was Alastair's Sesto Elemento and upon seeing that, it made me realize why he decided to use my Harley instead. My Harley paled in comparison to the other vehicles which made sense as to why Alastair used it, since it was the most conspicuous vehicle. I was surprised that Morgan's Lotus Elise was nowhere to be found, seeing an Iconoclast in its place.

"How much money does your family have?" Alfred asked once he finally remembered how to move.

"Enough," I replied as I tried to ignore Alfred's reaction to the cars. Staring at the roses in my garden, I clicked my tongue in annoyance as I pulled a dead leaf from one of the stems, dropping them to the ground. Stomping towards the front door, I pulled out my keys when it suddenly opened to reveal a smirking Aiden, wearing an expression which I've seen way too many times to know that he was planning something mischievous once again.

"Arthur," Aiden greeted; his Irish accent thick and his smile a little too wide for my liking. He wore my clothes, with black skinny jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt underneath my Who shirt. In his hands, he held one of his several handheld gaming consoles as he leaned on the doorframe, giving Alfred a scrutinizing stare.

Before he could pull me in for a hug, I sidestepped and shoved him out of the doorway, pulling Alfred and taking him upstairs, holding a groan and a look of disgust until Aiden was out of sight. "Stay here," I ordered as I shoved him in my office, before dropping my satchel on my bed in my room and changing into a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black shirt. Normally, I'd wear a sweater vest and a pair of slacks, but my siblings adored picking on the way I dressed so I decided to go for a safe, generic look.

Just then, Niles barged into my room, tackling me to the ground. "Hey kid!" he greeted as I struggled to get him off me. He was laughing as he attempted to pin me to the ground until I pulled out a pocket knife which I hid underneath my bed and pointed it at his neck.

Since I was the only one who actually lived in the house, I'd decided to store weapons all over the house in addition to the weaponry room placed in the main hidden room in the basement. It was better to be safe than sorry after all.

"Uhm," Alfred's appeared in the hallway, staring at Niles and I with a confused expression, seeing as how Niles was straddling me with an amused expression and I held a knife to his throat.

"Did I not tell you to stay in the office?" I hissed.

"You're pointing a knife at your brother…"

"It's normal, kid," Niles replied with a chuckle.

"But…you're pointing a gun at Arthur…"

I realized that indeed he was as I felt something cold and metallic being pressed to my side. "It's a family greeting," I replied with a hint of sarcasm before I covered my knife and drove a punch towards Niles' cheek so he could get off me.

"Cute boyfriend," Niles muttered as he got up, now sporting a red, swelling cheek.

"But we're not—"

"I know, kid, I'm just fucking around," he chuckled, running a hand through his auburn hair.

"Where's Morgan?" I asked, hiding the excitement in my tone. Compared to the rest of them, I was able to get along with Morgan the best. Aiden always pulled pranks on me—god knows why he chose me as his favourite target—Niles _adored_ attacking me from behind, challenging me for a fight. Niles was taller although not necessarily stronger and faster. His punches were strong, but his attacks weren't strategic. Alastair on the other hand, was a better fighter, although rather than fighting, he found better ways to piss me off.

Morgan was very supportive and it helped that we both had the same area of expertise. Growing up, we often had healthy competitions when performing missions. Naturally, Morgan had the most kills, although she also risked her cover in the process.

"Over here," Morgan smirked as she appeared behind Alfred, all but startling all of us; Niles and Alfred for quickly appearing without sound which everyone should be used to by now, and surprising me, for her changes in appearance. Her dirty blonde and ridiculously straight hair used to be long—long enough to be tied up high into a ponytail and still reach her waist; her current appearance gave me the impression that someone had taken a young woman of the 1920s and placed them in the current era of the 21st century. She looked absolutely stunning with her hair cut short and permed so it curled and framed her face and high cheekbones perfectly, and her hair had a lighter shade, which led me to believe that she had bleached it, although one would never guess what with the way her hair looked healthy as it shone even in the faintest light. She was dressed casually in a top that was tucked underneath her high-waisted peach skirt that reached her knees.

I was suddenly pulled out of my stunned state when Niles slapped my cheek, making me snap a glare at him. He simply gave an arrogant remark as to how I was 'salivating over my sister' which, I actually wasn't. Either way, even if I were, we technically weren't related by blood, however we've been around each other long enough to act as though we were actual siblings and that we were able to fool everyone into believing we were actual siblings. Only Niles and Aiden were actually related by blood and that was because they were identical twins.

"I was not drooling," I replied, shooting him a glare.

"Come here you little runt," Morgan said with a smile as she pulled me into a tight hug, ruffling my hair.

"Runt?" I repeated with disbelief in my voice. Surely I was the shortest of the Kirkland family, but it wasn't my fault they were all giants. My height was one that would be considered average.

After pulling away, Morgan introduced herself to Alfred with a certain distaste in her voice which mirrored mine when he first began talking to me. I smiled, glad that Morgan and I were agreeing on the same thing yet again.

Niles left as well, telling me to go downstairs for a meeting after I was finished dealing with Alfred.

"Y'know, if you and Morgan weren't siblings, I'd think you were crushing on her," Alfred nudged. There was a sudden tone in his voice which I couldn't describe that seemed different from his usual happy tone.

At Alfred's remark I scoffed, before bursting into a tiny fit of laughter. "Even if we weren't related by blood, why should my crushing on a girl be of any concern to you?" I asked.

Panic filled his eyes as he tried searching for an answer to my question until I waved him off dismissively.

"I suppose I should begin tutoring you, yes?" I sighed as I took my satchel and ushered him towards the office once again.

Several minutes into trying to teach Alfred the basics of his current assignment in Literature, I remained convinced that Alfred was merely playing dumb with me on the whole situation. He did not ask about the odd way us siblings greeted each other, and more importantly, I knew that he did not require secondary education due to the fact that his several masters proved his intelligence. He could be working as a high ranking employee of the government, so why was he in my school, purposely failing classes (_Literature_ of all classes, which was actually rather painful on my part due to the mere fact that it was _Literature_) and pretending to be an average human being with an IQ a tad higher than 130?

"Arthur Kirkland! Get down here!"

"Quit snogging with your boyfriend!"

"For the last time, he's not my boyfriend, you arse!" I yelled back before sighing and gathering all the sheets of paper which were spread across the table. Picking out several worksheets (I picked out those which even _I_ found rather tedious and time-consuming than difficult), I instructed a worn Alfred to 'make an attempt' to finish them before heading to the basement.

In the basement was a guest room with a closet wherein a hidden door was located. Of course, there were other ways to access the hidden room of the house and there were in fact more than one hidden rooms. One could easily access the main hidden room if they actually knew where they were located and how they could open them.

Pressing a tiny button by the side of a fake outlet, I took out the plastic cover and pulled out a tiny red dragon pendant. The dragon's tail was actually cut into a tiny key which I inserted in the keyhole, twisting it before pulling it up and pushing the wall gently. Walking inside, I noticed that I was the only one there. I headed to the area where a large number of computer screens were set up, giving me a view of the entire house, as well as the perimeters. My eyes switching from screen to screen, I found my siblings in the game room—one of the things I had placed there in order to seem like a family of normal teenagers and young adults—playing video games while Morgan sat on the couch, curled up under a blanket with a laptop in her hands.

The game room was located in the basement and could also be accessed through the hidden room. Heading to the opposite side of the room, I used my key to open another door, pushing a shelf filled with video games I never bothered playing with, I closed the door and pushed the shelf back before turning to face them.

"You called?" I said, clearing my throat as I watched Aiden and Niles shove each other while playing what I believed was Mario Kart.

"Yeah, pass me my drink, will ya?" Alastair hummed absentmindedly as he sat on the other side of the room with headphones in his ears, playing Assassin's Creed II on the Xbox, his tongue slightly sticking out in concentration as the character he controlled successfully evaded the soldiers with skill.

I stood in front of him, getting in the way of him and his game, causing a whirlwind of curses to escape his mouth which were directed towards me. "It's right beside you, now go get it yourself. Now why did you ask for me?"

"Get out of the fucking way you stupid, blithering cunt!" he exclaimed, causing everyone to stare at us with amusement in their eyes. I flipped them off, telling them to mind their own business before another plethora of curses was sent towards me.

"Alastair, I'm sure you're aware that I've left Alfred _alone_ in the office upstairs. I'd rather not leave him for long, or I'm afraid he'll—"

"Arthur cock-sucking Kirkland—"

"Alright, listen here you shit, if you were actually doing your fucking job, then you'd know that Alfred fucking Jones is a genius capable of stealing our information and leaving him unattended in my office is rather dangerous. Now, get to the damn point, or I won't be able to see what Alfred wanted with me and why—I have a suspicion—that he's interested in our affairs," I snapped, glaring at Alastair with the same intensity as his green eyes bore holes through my head.

Morgan's applause could be heard in the distance as Alastair raised an eyebrow and paused the game, pressing a button on the remote to show surveillance displays such as those in the hidden room. The televisions in the game room were instantly split into different parts, displaying what areas with CCTV cameras were placed in looked like.

"Arthur you shit, I was winning that game," Aiden grumbled as he sat on the couch beside Alastair.

"A thousand apologies, your majesty," I said, smiling an extremely fake smile.

"Well, let's start talking business, shall we?" Morgan asked, leaning her head on the armrest so she could see everyone else.

Alastair's voice took on a clipped, professional tone as he ordered me to inform everyone of what I knew about Alfred. I did as I was told, only to find out that they knew most of the information I managed to gather hours ago. We still had no clue as to what Alfred wanted with us and we were also suspicious of the fact that he was already aware of who we really were. Morgan had passed her laptop to Aiden who began searching various information databanks for Alfred's information, going so far as to checking those that were uploaded and were deleted by the government. Aiden was unable to find any information past what we already knew which led us all to believe that the government stored it and never uploaded it online, aware of the fact that several people would be interested in him. Whatever we managed to gather was enough to earn millions if sold to the right clients, although it wasn't enough—not for us.

My eyes wandered around the room, to the screen which showed where Alfred should have been, only to see that he had abandoned the work I'd assigned. My eyes quickly scanned each screen for Alfred, finding him hiding behind a bookshelf as he looked through binders of fake information.

"Well, at least now we're aware that he wants something from us," I huffed as I pointed at the screen.

Before I could warn Morgan and Niles that he wouldn't be able to find anything in the first place, they were already gone, their expressions murderous as they each held a pistol, their footsteps light and their movements quick as they headed up the stairs. Watching them from the screen, they opened the door and pointed a gun at Alfred's back.

What I saw in Alfred's eyes weren't fear; his eyes looked calm as he pretended to display an expression of horror on his face. He was dragged down the stairs, his footsteps heavy as he was shoved into the room, surveying it with large eyes. "Whoa, okay, Arthur, what is going on? Why are your siblings pointing pistols at me? Are those surveillance displays?"

"Quit the foolish act," Morgan hummed as she locked the door and guarded the exit, keeping her gun pointed at Alfred.

"If this is your government's way of getting our attention, then they did a hell of a job doing so. Now start talking before I blow your head off," Niles said with his voice coated in venom.

"I'm under strict orders to keep my mouth shut until my superiors give me the freedom to do as you say. Sorry about that," he sighed, flopping on the couch, and putting his feet on the table, flashing an arrogant smile.

"Were you the one who stole the information from Art's computer?" Aiden interrogated, his eyes glinting with fascination at Alfred's computer skills.

"I'm in no position to tell you that, but if you connect the dots and assume, you'll find out who stole your transaction files with Ms. Arlovskaya," which meant that he _did_ steal information from me.

"That essay file you showed me…you wrote that, didn't you?" I asked. "The file was entitled 'presentation' and in that is a virus in which helped you steal the info, correct?"

"There is a possibility."

"You're basically dropping hints in order for us to put the pieces together—why is that?" Alastair asked, narrowing his eyes.

Alfred pursed his lips, pressing them into a thin line, his jaw clenching and his shoulders tensing in response to Alastair's question. He couldn't help us there.

Alastair nodded, acknowledging his answer before sitting across from him. "Okay, I respect your loyalty—"

"It's not loyalty," Alfred mumbled as he stared down, playing with his nails in an attempt to avoid eye contact. "It's a personal matter that I'm not comfortable talking about," he continued.

"And why is that?"

"I need your help, but I can't do that because I can't provide you the money in exchange for your services. The government needs your help too, and the case they're working on is related to my problem. I would talk about Ms. Arlovskaya's relation my problem, but like I said, I would only waste your time."

There was an awkward moment of silence until someone rang the doorbell, making us stare at the screen displaying the front porch where it displayed a short woman with long, black hair tied into a low ponytail, wearing a modest green shirt. "Special agent Lien Chung," she called out with a stern voice, pulling out her badge and showing it to the camera. "We require your full cooperation or a forced takeover of your facility will most likely take place. I demand you to open this door in 3..2.."

"You aren't really intimidating anyone," Alastair spoke into the intercom, his hand hovering over the button which unlocked the door. "Go to the basement and it's the first room to your left. We have one of your men with us."

Alfred remained silent, his posture seeming tense as he shot up to stare at the screen and watched Lien enter the game room.

Morgan opened the door for Lien before closing it and pointing a gun at her.

"That won't be necessary," Lien muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'm here with the agency's proposal, as well as an explanation and an apology regarding our _dog's_"—she sneered, glaring at Alfred—"_idiotic_ behaviour."

"Ma'am, I was taught by my mother to respect my elders, but you're making that very difficult for me, as you're acting like a bitch," Alfred frowned.

"The mutt requires strict training and the agency is willing to pay a large amount in exchange for your services." Lien smirked, crossing her arms.

The agency – is that what they called their government nowadays?

"Why are you coming to us? The government is well aware that we also entertain clients in the underworld business, so why would the government require _our_ assistance of all…organizations?" Alastair asked as he paused to search for the best word.

"Exactly for that reason, Mr. Kirkland," she replied with a sigh. "You have connections which would make it easier for the both of us. It would be a win-win situation, if you look at it. Just treat us like how you would treat any other client of yours."

"But your government is aware of our illegal activities, so why is it that you choose to buy our services instead of destroy us and force us into working for you?"

"Surely, even the agency would be aware of the rumors regarding the Kirkland family. We know what you five siblings are capable of, so cooperation would be the preferred choice in this situation," she rolled her eyes at Alastair in response to his question.

I held back a laugh, as did Aiden, as we stared at each other, and then back towards Lien.

"So the government would also be aware of the fact that we do not want your money. Your government is scared of us and our power because we could easily turn your own people against you, leading to your failure. We don't want people's taxes as payment—we have a lot of money as you can see," Alastair chuckled, gesturing around us. He knew exactly what we were thinking and how we were viewing this issue and he also knew what our decision would be. "However, we'd still accept the money, only we're demanding for something more."

"And what might that be?" Lien frowned, staring at us with curiosity. "If it isn't money that you want—mainly, at the very least—then what is it?"

"Sometimes, people kill for the sake of killing, Ms. Chung. I thought that would be obvious as you're one of the best in doing your job," Alfred spoke in a hushed tone. He knew how our minds worked and his statement was a great example of how we think.

"Quiet, dog!" Lien growled as she walked over, her movements showing that she planned the use of disciplinary means that were used on me as a child.

I didn't really know what happened after that. Perhaps it was an instinct to which I saw myself in Alfred's position many years ago that made me grab Lien's wrist and twist it before disarming her completely and holding her hands behind her back before she could even lay a finger on Alfred. "Jones has a point. What we want is the government on their knees, their honour gone as they decide to turn to us—what they consider to be lowly—for help. Indeed, some of us might kill just because we're bored, and we want your government to know how shameful it is on your part for you to turn to us. This is the first time _your agency_ is coming to us for help. It should be interesting."

No, I never did advocate murdering in vain. As I mentioned before, the skills an individual possessed were what made the person important and I'm sure that out of those lives, people could extract and expand their views based on the information and the skills each person had. Indeed people were dispensable, although in contrary to that ideology the information they carried with them weren't. If, however, the information they carried were something we carried as well, then I would find it tolerable if the person were killed. Should the person ever get in the way of our plans and compromise operations, I myself would be willing to kill them.

"Prior to hearing your demands, we have terms of our own to state for you to have the audacity to come here and assume that we would simply comply," Alastair said as he crouched on the ground, examining Lien's weapons.

The Kirkland family never fully cooperated with our clients especially when our clients involved those of the government. We always made sure that we had something to gain as payment and money didn't necessarily meet our demands most of the time.

"Go on," she nodded as she attempted to struggle out of my grip. In response, I kicked her knees, forcing her to fall to the ground as I kept my arms around her wrist.

"We still want your money," Aiden muttered as he began stating the terms.

"We want no government intervention now that you came to us for help," Niles spoke. "Instead of us cooperating with you, you'll have to cooperate with us. We want you to completely surrender the mission to us. Let us do our business and we'll come to you, should we need anything. It's only natural as us Kirklands hate it when outsiders are involved in our business."

"And now that we have you on a leash, that means we can kill and basically do what we want for the sake of this mission you require us of doing," Morgan added with a smile.

"That also means we want the government to admit how shameful it is that you turned to us for help. We want complete freedom over this mission and if we require something from you, we demand that you give it to us quickly, or we're compromising this mission and turning against you." Alastair said.

There was complete silence as everyone waited for me to make a demand. I swallowed, looking around as I thought of what I wanted. My eyes lingered on Jones as I blurted, "I want Jones."

Niles snickered as Alfred stared at me with wide eyes.

I kept myself calm, not a blush betraying my expression as I gave a smug smile. "He's very important to you, yes?" I asked, not requiring an answer before I continued. "He will be our living trophy; a sign of the government turning to us—mercenaries, informants, spies, assassins, and," I paused, raising an eyebrow at the rest of my siblings with an amused expression before continuing, "pathetic, pickpocketing children—for help. I want you to surrender the boy genius, weapons developer, and prized possession of the government to us completely, no questions asked. He's ours, and you can't do anything about it."

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**And there we go! That's the odd introduction of Arthur's family of misfits. ^^ Yeah, Arthur wants Alfred as his pretty little trophy to be placed on a shelf... Relationship development right there, you guys! ^^**

**I feel like everything escalated way too quickly in this chapter. Please let me know what you think! ****Your feedback is extremely important to me and I appreciate every single one of them! So please review~**

**- Reilley**


	5. Chapter 5: Mandatory Briefing

**So yeah, I'm alive. If I fucked this up, then I'm sorry. It's unedited too. I'm sorry.**

_**Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya**_

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"There you have it, Ms. Chung," Alastair shrugged with a smile. "The Kirkland family has stated their demands. Tell your bosses that and for now, we'll keep little Alfie here with us until you tell us what your side decides to do."

"That won't be necessary," Lien spoke as she looked up at Alastair. "They're listening to our conversation as we speak," she smirked. "Now let go before I call my men."

"Well, talk to them and tell us what they say," I huffed, releasing my grip. Her threats held no significance to us.

She paused, raising an eyebrow as she listened to what her superiors' orders—possibly through an earpiece. Nodding and clarifying statements a couple of times, it took a few minutes for them to finally come to a conclusion. "They aren't too keen on the idea of letting Jones go. He's a powerful asset to us and his contributions in covert operations were extraordinary," she paused, looking at everyone's reaction. Alfred had been silent the whole time, while the rest of us smirked upon the knowledge that what I demanded from the government was something they could not provide that easily. If by any chance they decide to decline, then the whole deal would be called off and we'd have to attack them for stealing our information—a daring decision so to speak, although that's simply how we operate. She sighed, continuing, "but apparently, if that's what it takes, then by all means, go ahead and take Jones with you. It's unfair that _we'll_ have to surrender the mission entirely to you, but I know we can work something out."

_Really? Really? Were they that desperate?_

"Very well," Alastair hid his astonishment with a chuckle. "Niles, prepare a room for Alfred. Morgan, you're in charge while I discuss the terms with Ms. Chung. Aiden, come with me and record everything that happened. Also, prepare a contract. And Arthur," he said, narrowing his eyes at me, his expression extremely vicious, "you have Alfred now. He's your responsibility and should he ever fuck up, you're the one to take the blame, understood?"

I released the breath I realized I was holding, nodding as I gave a look of defeat. "Yes, I will take full responsibility over him."

"Very good," he said, turning to Aiden. "Hey! Let's go, come on! We all should be excited since this will be our first major mission in six months!"

I gave him a glum response with my eyes narrowed as I collapsed on the couch. I was not at all pleased with how everything was going. It could have been due to the fact that I've been forcing myself to process the current events which may have escalated a little too quickly. The fact that I was starting to feel the effects of a sugar low after ingesting caffeine in large quantities wasn't helping; fatigue was getting the best of me. I might as well have snorted speed, though I wasn't really the type to consume drugs other than alcohol.

He disappeared with a disparaging smile, rolling his eyes as Aiden followed after him. Niles disappeared to do as he was ordered, while Morgan remained in the room with us, her pistol still held tightly in her hand.

I stared at the two remaining people in the room. The tension was so thick I couldn't stand it. With a sigh, I said, "Speak. Both of you have something to say, so speak."

"I appreciate what you did, you know, uh, working with the feds and—"

"Do shut up, dear, it's not as though we're doing it for you. It's the first time we're getting the US government as our client and I'm not exactly pleased with your presence. I don't care if it's personal to you and in fact, I'd rather not have you here, because I believe having you around would increase our chances of compromising the mission," I said. His presence affected me in such an odd way, making me react to every little thing he does in a way that wasn't as calm and collected as the Arthur Kirkland everyone was used to.

Alfred tilted his head, sitting up as he frowned at me. "But then why did you ask for me? Didn't you need my skills?"

Morgan answered that for me with an exasperated sigh, "Listen, kid, the reason Arthur wanted you was because he was hoping the government would back out on their offer. It's either that, or we'll keep you as our living trophy. Were you not listening, or are you really just daft?"

"Golden Boy's surprised that for once in his life, the bad guys believe he's dispensable and that he has no purpose other than a figurative award—another trophy to be placed on a shelf," I mused, chuckling as I stared at the screen displaying Alastair, Aiden and Lien.

"Well I guess I owe you guys an explanation and a piece of information I stole from you," he said in quite a silent voice as I felt his eyes on me. I kept my eyes on the screen as I gestured for him to go on. "My brother disappeared about five weeks ago and his whereabouts are still unknown. I don't know if he's still alive or dead, and when I destroyed the organization which I thought had the motive for kidnapping my brother, they remained silent. I only managed to get a name: Natalya Arlovskaya; they said she was the one I needed to go to. I didn't really know much about her. I scanned all of her government files but she came clean—well, almost clean; she was accused of several crimes, but since there weren't enough evidence to support the accusations, she was declared not guilty. After talking to the right people, they told me that she's had the most transactions with you guys, so I decided to steal her information. I didn't find much since the files managed to sort of self-destruct in less than three minutes, so I only managed to steal your latest transaction records."

There was silence after his explanation, until Morgan spoke. "Typical," she scoffed. "Poor Nat's always the one being accused of the pathetic crimes she didn't do. I guess people would never understand that it's just not her style. She's more sophisticated than that—more glamorous."

"And what does your government want with her?"

"They need to bring her in for questioning, but seeing as how she's acquired celebrity status in Europe as a billionaire, it'll be difficult to do that without attracting attention. They believe she knows the reason behind the recent murders of several federal agents as well as the reason why most of our international operations have been compromised. They think she's conspiring against the government. I just want to know where the hell my brother is and if he's still alive," he answered.

"Why can't the government dig any further? They don't have any hard evidence that leads to Ms. Arlovskaya. This is all based on speculation. They don't even have a warrant."

"Well, that's kind of the reason why they came to you. You have everyone's information and you also offer mercenary services to others. It's not like what you do is legal; there just isn't much evidence and information about you." Of course. How daft of me to even point out my thoughts. Governments adored hiding things from its citizens. If civilians were made aware of what actually went on in the system which governed their beloved country, it would cause an uproar; a giant chaos sure to split the country into different sides and ideologies. They were expecting us to do their dirty work.

Morgan scoffed in disbelief, "And what about her motives? Why would she even take on the American government when she's perfectly happy in her jewel-encrusted nest in Belarus?"

"I'm sorry but they didn't really tell me much about this matter either, ma'am."

"We're really running blind here, aren't we?" she huffed as she relaxed, dropping on the couch beside me as well.

"'m afraid so, ma'am," he mumbled, making Morgan raise an eyebrow as to how he addressed her. "I suppose I should…y'know, give respect since you'll be taking care of me from now on," he muttered an explanation.

At that, she laughed, wiping a lone tear before her fit of laughter came to an end. "I'm not the one responsible for you, kid. I couldn't care less about your situation. As much as I enjoy your sudden high degree of respect, I believe _he_ should be the one you're talking to" she said, jerking her head in my direction.

Before Alfred spoke, I let out a growl and snapped him a glare. "Don't even think of calling me sir. Do I look like a sir? No, don't call me a sir. Don't call me Artie, Art, or any other ridiculous nickname. I have a name and that is Arthur."

Alfred chuckled uneasily before mumbling an "okay."

I went back to watching the screen, slightly amused by what was currently happening. Alastair had reclined on his chair, putting his feet up on the table as he lit up a cigar, his face blank as Lien spoke, seeming to grow more and more agitated. He opened his mouth, muttering a few words which caused Lien to slam her hands on the table and begin shouting at him as Aiden typed furiously on the computer. Exchanging a few words, Aiden came to a halt, staring at Alastair, then back at Lien. Alastair told Aiden to continue typing, making Lien grab Aiden's wrist in order to prevent him from doing so. Lien's eyes were wide as Alastair spoke one word, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' as she sat back down on the seat and crossed her arms. She nodded at Aiden, signalling him to proceed as they began chatting once again, only in a much calmer manner.

Minutes later, everyone returned into the room with Alastair looking accomplished while Lien and Aiden appeared to be worn. Everyone could easily tell by the smug expression on his face and the twinkle in his eyes that he was eager to accomplish our current task. Alastair was good with his words; he was a smooth-talker, although when in an argument, he always made sure that he won. He would twist the other person's words, confusing them, manipulating them, or wearing them out until they gave into his demands and judging by Lien's expression on her face, that was exactly what happened.

"What the hell took you so long, Alastair? What were you doing in there?" Morgan frowned.

Alastair smirked, approaching her before whispering in her ear, "Your mom," over-exaggerating his accent.

Morgan scowled at him, pulling out her pistol and pointing it as his forehead, pushing him away until he was back where he stood. "Very mature of you," she muttered condescendingly before walking away. "Give Niles a briefing, explaining the details of our latest task. I'll have to talk to my men and tell them to handle operations in Wales. The kid told us what happened already," she said before disappearing upstairs.

Aiden followed after Morgan, muttering a string of curses as he realized that he too needed to talk to those under his colleagues in Ireland regarding operations.

"Tch, they should have done that before they got on the plane to America," Alastair uttered as he rolled his eyes, watching them leave.

"'Ey, so I finished setting up the kid's room," Niles mumbled as he slid down the handrails on his way down the stairs. "You're staying in the same room with him," he told me.

Before even opening my mouth to protest, he spoke once again. "He's your responsibility and he also needs to be watched over since god fucking knows what else he might try to steal," he turned to Alfred, extending his hand. "Aiden needs the USB so hand it over and I'll give it to him."

Alfred dug for the USB in his pocket, pulling it out before hesitantly placing it on Nile's open palm. "I…suppose I won't need it anymore since you'll be handling the situation from here."

"Indeed, and while we work on gathering the information since they didn't really give us a lot to work with, you'll spend time with Arthur and he will make sure that you're well prepared when we start of our operations," Alastair announced.

He left before I could even utter a single protest, making me let out a groan as I shut off every single piece of technology in the game room, not even bothering to talk to the idiot who still seemed to process the turn of events. His beloved government just decided that Ms. Natalya Arlovskaya—someone who wasn't even an American citizen—was more important than him. I wondered how _that_ affected his inflated ego.

Heading up the stairs, I walked into Niles' room, stealing his clothes, since he had a similar build to Niles'; taller, and a little more muscular, compared to me. I threw him the pair of sweats he could change into, grumbling as I told him to get dressed while I got myself prepared for bed in the bathroom.

Walking into my room, I blinked as the king-sized bed I owned was now replaced by two twin beds on opposite sides of the wall. How he managed to move the king-sized bed so quickly without making much noise, I would most likely never know. Niles was strong, and he had his ways. My plan of forcing Alfred to sleep on the floor was instantly crushed. "Niles!" I exclaimed, earning a noise of acknowledgement. "What the fuck did you do to my room?" My voice echoed in the entire house, sure that everyone heard my voice.

"Quit your bitching!" was his genius response.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm trying to sleep, you stupid cow!" yelled Aiden.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I collapsed on my bed face-first as I buried my face on my pillow.

"Hey man, are you okay?" Alfred asked as I heard him walk over to the bed I chose not to claim as my own.

"Fabulous," I muttered sarcastically. "I believe my attitude towards you has been intolerable, even in the past, and I-I apologize for that," I told him while my voice was being muffled with the pillow. "I would like to educate you about everything and everyone, but not tonight. The past events have been quite tiring for everyone and I suggest you rest as everyone currently needs it. I assume that this is all very hard to process, so take all the time you need, but don't drag me down. Uh, I tend to be an arsehole, and I apologize for that. I should really shut up now," I babbled, waiting for a response. When I didn't receive any, I shifted my neck in his direction, finding him with his eyes closed; his glasses placed crookedly on his nose and his mouth slightly open.

"Son of a bitch."

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**Sorry for my disappearance, you guys. I'm sick and the girls in my vocal class are making fun of my voice because it keeps cracking and changing from really deep, to prepubescent boy-high. Girls are scary. Anyway, regarding the previous chapter, I never wanted Vietnam to seem like a bitch. Really, there's a reason for that. Just you guys wait.**

**I've never really tried speed, or any drugs for the matter, but according to a very reliable source, that's what speed does to the human body. If I fucked it up, then let me know. I'm sorry.**

**- Reilley**


	6. Chapter 6: Sleep

**Two updates in one day. How about that? I just ****_had_**** to write this, so I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.**

_**Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya**_

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He appeared younger as he slept, looking innocent as he quickly escaped from the reality into the realm of fantasy in his dreams. His breathing was heavy as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Peaceful wasn't a word that I would use to describe him. Perhaps it could be used to describe someone else, but with someone like him who didn't have much of a childhood, 'peaceful' didn't fit his description very well. Perhaps 'content' suited him better. He was content and he knew how to look at the bright side of every situation. He was…optimistic.

No, I did not spend five minutes watching him sleep with a suppressed smile on my face as I searched for the right word to describe Alfred. That would be stupid and unproductive of me and those two words never did describe me. Arthur Kirkland.

Alfred shifted to his side, his glasses digging onto his face and his arm hanging across the bed. As his body neared the edge of the bed, risking a fall which would no doubt wake me later on in the night, I got up and pulled the glasses off his face, placing it on the bedside table, before pushing his body closer to the wall. He was _heavy_. _What the hell does the boy eat?_ It wasn't like I was frail, in fact, I was lean but I never did focus on building up muscle like Niles since my job never required the use of bulky muscles, so it only made me question why he was so heavy. I grunted as I tried to push him over again, surprised that he hasn't stirred awake from his sleep, when he suddenly shifted, his arm knocking my balance as I fell forward onto his bed.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Letting out an irritated sigh, I attempted to push him off me, but my attempts seemed futile as he managed to shift closer towards me, trapping me against the wall. _A cuddler out of all sleepers!_ "Fuck," I groaned as I realized I wouldn't be freed from him at all unless he shifted, so I gave up curled into a ball, trying to ignore the fact that up close, he smelled of sage with a clean, woodsy pine tar scent, blaming the scent of fabric detergent for the fresh smell of cotton and sweet vanilla, even though the clothes have been untouched in Niles' closet for months. It wasn't Alfred who carried the sweet scent, damn it. No.

Even so, it was difficult to deny the fact to myself that I didn't enjoy the scent and yes, I insist that it was the scent of Niles' fabric detergent, rather than Alfred's scent, so as my eyes slid shut, I slowly shifted closer to him and ignored the heat rushing in my cheeks, knowing that I could blame his serial cuddling tendencies when we were both fully awake.

Also, get your head out of the fucking gutter, you prats. I was trapped underneath his grip and I simply couldn't do anything. Perhaps I could have attempted to manoeuver my way out of his grip, or used my knowledge in combat to get him off me, but sleep enveloped my thoughts that night and I simply didn't have the energy to do so. And so, we slept.

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**I'm sorry, I had to. I think I'll go do things sick-me does now and those are playing ACII and watching Cry videos until I fall into a peaceful slumber. Perhaps watching some SNK would be nice too. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with my husbands (Ezio Auditore, Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirchstein and Rivaille) and wives (Mikasa Ackerman, Zoe Hanji, Historia Lenz, and Ymir).**

**Please review. I love every single one of them.**

**- Reilley**


	7. Chapter 7: Meet the Family

**Now I know this isn't exactly what you wanted, but here it is anyway. I promise I'll do some sort of chapterette regarding the 'morning after. **  
**Unedited, and shitty, like always.**

_**Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya**_

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One thing many people assumed about me was the fact that I was a morning person when in all honesty, I was the exact opposite. Whatever foul mood I was usually in would double especially in the wee hours of the day. The morning after my sleep with Alfred was the best morning to describe my improper behaviour. At about three in the morning, I jerked awake at the sensation of falling, followed by a very uncomfortable landing on the hardwood floor. To make it worse, Alfred was right on top of me, snoring in my ear.

With my chin rested on the cool granite countertop surface, I closed my eyes, attempting to block the noises surrounding me and return to sleep. The noises included Aiden's heavy typing on the keyboard as he shouted at one of his workers on his phone, which was conveniently—actually, it was rather inconvenient as it was set on loudspeaker for everyone to hear, along with Niles sitting beside me, scarfing down his meal and arguing with Alastair about how he ate the last piece of food which, I really couldn't care less about the name. Morgan was calling for Aiden, suggesting how to fix the situation as she prepared more food with Alfred, who was listening to an upbeat Miley Cyrus song on his earphones, with the dynamics too loud and too early in the morning.

I really couldn't understand how they could all function normally at the crack of dawn. You see, it took time for me to become the prim and proper, log-up-the-arse, student council president, Arthur Kirkland. I suppose you could consider it a front, though it was a front I've put up and been used to for such a long time that it…_defined_ me.

"Arthur, come on, eat something," Morgan hummed as I heard the sound of chairs being dragged back to my right. "Look, this is one of those rare times where we actually eat together as a family," she paused and frowned—of course she would frown, everyone would frown at the sight of Alfred who suddenly decided it was best to burst into some sort of musical number, "so we should at least try not to look so dysfunctional."

"Everybody please shut up! Seriously, I've got a client on hold on the other line, and I'm trying to talk to one of my men on the other! Can you show some fucking professionalism?" Aiden screeched. I could almost see everyone flipping him off for that.

"Can you two please slow down on the food? Where do you place all that stuff?" Alfred complained.

I heard Niles let out another noise of complaint, which led me to believe that Alastair just slapped him upside the head. "Sorry kid, if you're slow, you won't get any food at all," he laughed, the two of them ignoring Alfred.

I opened my eyes, groaning as I grabbed whatever cereal box was in the cupboard and a bowl, filling it up with cereal, before adding milk to it. Yawning as I sat back down with a spoon, I stared at my breakfast, feeling my heavy eyelids drop once again. Sleep was a luxury not everyone, and by everyone, I meant not even the richest people, could ever afford.

"He looks like he's about to fall asleep and drop his head on the cereal," Niles yawned.

"Don't even think about pushing my head down, you cunt," I snapped, glaring at him.

"Whoa, princess bitch is finally awake," he retorted.

Alfred materialised across from me, sliding a plate of freshly cooked bacon towards me, sizzling as the smell wafted across the kitchen, making Niles dive for the plate. Alfred pulled it in time; grumbling about how there was another batch he was cooking and that they needed to stop eating like pigs.

"I cooked it so that Arthur could get _some_ protein since all he eats is rabbit food at lunch," he said, as he scratched his neck uneasily.

I groaned before my siblings could make another remark as to our current relationship—which, by the way, in no way at all, a relationship that was close enough for us to be referred to as boyfriends. It was terrible enough that they caught Alfred crushing the life out of me, and at that point, my siblings have decided to question my sexuality. The way Alfred acted around me was not helping.

"Shut up, Alfred; don't refer to vegetables as rabbit food," I sighed, pressing a hand to my forehead.

Alastair snuck a message about how Alfred seemed concerned enough that we were practically married, to which in response, I shot him a deadly glare.

"Perhaps I should formally introduce myself to you," Morgan said as she gave an approving nod of Alfred's cooking. "My real name is Lisa, although I'm known as Morgan Kirkland. Other than my real name, and age, I have a vague recollection of where I'm from and who my parents are. Like Arthur, I specialize in stealth and covert operations as well as acquiring information. Arthur's actually more soft-hearted than I am, and unlike Arthur, I don't have a conscience."

I frowned at Morgan's previous statement. "I'm comfortable with killing in vain too—"

"_Anyway_, call me Lisa and I'll cut your tongue off. Not even Niles can call me that," she said, smiling sweetly before leaning towards me and placing her head on my shoulder. "Only Arthur can call me that."

Alastair snorted, rolling his eyes at that. "You and Art are too close."

"Yeah," Niles agreed. "Whelp, m'real name's Connor," he said, chewing loudly, "I specialize in assassinations, hacking, theft, blah, blah, blah. Fuck yeah, I can kill people and I can do it in several, creative ways without the use of a weapon. Call me Niles." Pointing at his brother whose fingers were typing furiously on the keyboard, his brows knitted together in complete focus, Niles began again, "See that guy over there who looks a lot like me? He's my twin. His name's Connell and he's good with computers like you. He can also perform surgery and all that painfully boring shit. Call him Aiden."

"Well it seems like I'm the last one," Alastair huffed, lighting a cigar which he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. "I'm Alastair and I guess you could say I'm the master of the house. I make the decisions and I call the shots. I also break up fights between these shitheads because they have the mentality of six-year-olds. I'm their big brother—nothing special."

Alfred frowned, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. "So what do you specialize in?"

At that, Alastair smirked, "Babysitting these fuckasses."

Alfred decided to leave Alastair at that. "What about you and Arthur? Don't you two have real names?"

"Why does it matter? It's not like we'll let you call us by our real names," I grumbled. I honestly saw no purpose for them. For some reason, I considered having real names something private and that only people who were trusted should have the right to refer to people like us with our real names.

Morgan smirked at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't even try."

"Well he has the shittiest recollection of his past. He doesn't remember anything at all, so he doesn't have a legitimate name. People did call him Iggy before he got tagged, so yeah. I was in the same boat as Artie, so I don't actually remember my real name." Alastair replied. _Damn it, why?_

Alfred's eyes lit up at the mention of the name everyone referred to me as. "That's such a cute nickname," he gushed, leaning forward towards me. That nickname would have been adorable for a child, had it not been for the fact that I'd described the act of committing a crime as ignominious when they first found me. I wasn't able to pronounce the word fully as a child and I had no clue where my knowledge of the word came from, [although I believe it was a relative of mine who uttered the word which stuck to me during that time] but the old fence decided to pick on the way I mispronounced the word.

I finished my cereal quickly, washing the bowl before escaping to the bathroom where I took my shower and prepared for the day. During my way up the stairs, Niles shot a comment about how Alfred and I should shower together, to which Aiden told him to 'shut his hole.'

At that point, I realized I would most likely regret my decision of taking Alfred. _You messed up, Arthur,_ I thought to myself as I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower.

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**Wow look at that, pointless real names. Don't worry, I'll make things interesting soon enough. For now, keep on guessing who Alfred's brother is, because it may or may not be who you think it is.**

**Review, my loves. It keeps me going.**

**~Reilley**


	8. Chapterette I: Through Different Eyes

**Here you go, unbeta'd, unedited, and all that stuff. I hope you're happy with this chapterette. I'm watching a French musical on TV and I have a vague clue as to what's going on. They have some pretty fucking amazing singers though.**

_**Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya**_

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Alfred

I woke up to the sensation of falling, but for some reason, I landed on something soft, and warm, which I found extremely pleasant, that my brain, clouded from endless thoughts and oppressed by stress, decided to embrace the pleasantness and return to sleep. It was until hours later that I realized what, or who, I'd been cuddling up to. Arthur's body was warm, although mine was warmer, and for some reason in my sleep, I could feel this sort of warmth enveloping me. It didn't make me feel in any way safe, but I was somehow _drawn_ to it, if you know what I mean. No, please, I didn't mean for that to sound dirty if that's what you're thinking.

It certainly was a surprise when I woke up to the sound of men yelling and jumping on mattresses, hovering over us, since the first thing I realized was that a) I was not in my room in Lien's house and b) I was right on top of my school's student council president who had a pained expression on his face, regardless the fact that he was clutching onto me. Even then, I still took my sweet time getting up, as I was still a little groggy from sleep. Letting out a yawn, I took a look around and shook Arthur gently, only to meet a pair of sharp, acidic green eyes glaring at me.

"What the hell are you guys doing on the floor?" one of the twins asked. He had rust-colored hair, with a darker shade of green eyes, and a bulkier build in comparison to Arthur. His accent definitely sounded Irish, and he seemed extremely cocky, therefore I have dubbed him as Dick, until I figured out what his name was. He was the same guy who pointed a gun at me, along with the pretty girl who Arthur seemed close to. The gun didn't bother me, and I totally understood the reason why they got extremely defensive as I decided to go through their files without permission.

"'e grabbed me," Arthur mumbled as he tried to curl up into a ball, hugging himself for some warmth and attempted to return to sleep. Arthur's voice in the morning was absolutely the best thing I've ever heard. His voice was deep, with rich dark tones, and his usual smooth voice was rough and thick with sleep. Also, his accent was sloppier; it was completely different from his Londoner's accent. He mumbled more, and he sounded rougher.

"How is that even possible when your beds are literally on opposite sides?" the more slender twin was the one who asked this time as the two of them continued jumping on our beds. I decided to call him Twink because he kind of looked like one, and even if it was insulting, the thought wouldn't ever escape through my lips anyway. Like all negative thoughts, I kept them inside me and hoped that I would forget about them.

"'e fucking grabbed me, now shut the fuck up before I slit your fucking throat," Arthur groaned, his eyelids fluttering as though he was tempted to snap them open and glare at him until he died. I've been on the receiving end of his glares a lot, and if looks really _could_ kill, then, well, let's just say it'd be overkill in my case. Still, his eyes were fascinating; brighter than the usual green eye color, his were bright, sharp, and piercing, despite their size.

Twink pouted, landing on the bed on his rear as he sat down, poking Arthur's cheeks. "Alastair won't be pleased with you being a total shit."

"Pleased is the last thing I am, being around you arselickers constantly. Give me some fucking sleep, you shits. It's two in the morning."

Normal people would have already felt uncomfortable by the situation, but not me. Apparently, I couldn't read the atmosphere at all, so I always knew how to make myself comfortable with most situations. Placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, I shook him lightly again, "Artie, it's time to wake up. They wouldn't bug you for this if it wasn't important."

Arthur's eyes continued to flutter like he was forcing sleep upon himself or he was fighting the strong urge to gut someone, so I continued shaking his shoulder lightly until he sighed, sat up, and stretched, letting out another groan. It's difficult to explain Arthur's voice; his usually smooth voice was raspy and his deep baritone cracked, letting out this adorable high pitch voice I never knew he had. On top of it all, he was rubbing his eyes groggily and in the faint light, I noticed his cheeks were a little red.

I didn't know what drove me to do act that way, but on instinct, I ran my hand through his hair and patted his forehead affectionately, smiling warmly on my face. "Good morning," I greeted cheerily. By this point, the twins, Dick and Twink, decided to leave the room with a reminder to head downstairs quickly.

Arthur, like always, replied with a growl, although it didn't really posses the same amount of threat than it usually did. "How long are you going to keep on touching me?" he asked, not sounding particularly in a sharp tone.

I retracted my hand and pushed myself up, offering to pull Arthur up as well. Arthur only slapped my hand away, using his bed for support as he pulled himself up and rolled onto the mattress.

Letting out an sigh, I sat on his bed, staring at him with a tired look on my face. Who knew Arthur was such a difficult person in the morning? Well, he was always difficult, but he seemed extremely difficult during mornings. "Come on, we have school," I mumbled.

"Fuck school. It's soul-sucking, spirit-killing, and overall, a terrible environment."

"Arthur, sweetie, as much as I feel a deep spiritual connection with what you just said, we have to go."

"Fuck you."

"No, sorry, not now," was my smart reply.

In response to that, Arthur swung a pillow to my face with considerable strength, considering the fact that he was too focused on sleep, sending me falling back on the bed.

I groaned in response, but decided it was best to ask him what I'd been meaning to ask him ever since I woke up. "So, Artie, how did you end up in my bed? And from there, how did we end up on the floor?"

"You grabbed me," was the story he stuck with. Damn, was I really that bad of a sleep-cuddler? I knew about my cuddling tendencies, but I never thought they were that bad.

"How did you get within grabbing space anyway?"

"I tried to remove your glasses." Okay, now that one I didn't buy. That had got to be one of the lamest excuses I'd ever heard, that even those rom-coms I watched were nothing compared to what he just said. Last night was a blur, and my mind had trouble processing the fact that I now worked for Arthur's family. Now that my mind could fully function again, I realized that it didn't really matter who I worked for. Whatever odd sort of attraction or fascination I felt for Arthur, that didn't matter. I was there for my brother.

Arthur, whom I thought went back to sleep, spoke with a start, pulling me out from my thoughts. "Perhaps it's a terrible habit that you have; you fell asleep with your glasses on, and they were digging onto your face, so you're lucky I saved you from possible blindness. It'd be a shame to have your electrifying eyes ruined by your glasses shattering and blinding you." This time, his voice was clear and his tone returned to its normal one.

Arthur seemed to ramble when he wasn't particularly angry at the world. It was like he'd get lost in his thoughts, and while doing so, his thoughts would escape his mouth. Only then would he realize what he said, and he'd feel embarrassed. Every time he did so, it was like he felt he'd let his guard down, and he'd return to his sour state. I found it adorable, although I wished he had more confidence in his thoughts.

I instantly got up from his bed and crouched by his side to see his face, turned into an adorable pout. I could only assume that he was already starting to feel shame at that point, so I gave him a warm smile and before I could help myself, I was already giving him a kiss on the forehead. "You're not as bad as you claim yourself to be. You're actually the exact opposite, so thanks!" My cheeks felt warm, and I felt giddy as I darted out of his room and down the stairs, knowing Arthur was soon to follow.

* * *

**Wow guys, I hope I didn't fuck up Alfred's personality. I'll add the hero complex later, but for now, enjoy the American sweetheart Al's being. Also, if you don't know what a twink is, then don't Google Search Image it.**

**Hey beautiful, reviews are fucking amazing. Just like you. Every single one is appreciated.**

**~Reilley**


	9. Chapter 8: From Duckling To Swan

**I'm sorry... I'll edit this in the morning. I'm so fucking tired of everything and it's true that you get extremely emotional well past midnight.**

_**Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya**_

* * *

Over the next few days, us Kirklands along with Alfred fell into a steady routine; Alfred and I went to school as usual, keeping our distance from each other, while the rest worked on gathering data. I still found it quite suspicious how they decided to let Alfred go that easily, so I decided it was high time I bombarded Alfred with questions while he stubbornly insisted to sit with me during lunch. How I would talk to him, I have no clue. Social interactions were never my area of expertise.

"So, how do you plan on teaching me your ways?" Alfred asked, goofing off like his usual self.

I scowled at how he spoke. As if there was any secret behind how we operated; other than common knowledge and hard work, we relied on our skills and experience. Like I said, human life was expendable, and that meant us Kirklands as well. We worked hard to gain whatever we owned and we deserved it; we didn't pull any magic tricks, nor did we take any shortcuts.

"Did I say something wrong?" Alfred blinked.

I sighed, shaking my head as I gave a dismissive wave. "I have questions," I told him as I took a bite out of the cooked meal that Morgan and Alfred decided to pack for me.

"Ask away, sweetheart."

Alfred smiled as he watched me stare down incredulously at the meal, my eyes hinting a feeling of jealousy since no matter how great the effort I gave into cooking, I simply couldn't produce a delicious meal. I gave him a harsh glare before initiating said bombardment of questions. "Where is your dad? Why isn't there anyone looking for you yet?"

Alfred winced, letting out a weary chuckle before running a hand through his hair. "Starting with the personal questions, are we? Okay, well, I don't know. I learned all my tricks from him. He taught me how DOS works, how to hack, he gave me the books to read and everything, but when my mom's company went in debt and she got diagnosed with cancer, he ran away and disappeared. I never bothered searching for him. My grandfather took care of me after my mom died, but we hardly ever got to spend time together because I had to serve under the government for a few years. He died a few months ago before my brother went missing."

I was surprised at Alfred's decision not to take revenge on his father. Connecting the dots, it made sense why he had to steal money. With his mother's company bankrupt, the interest building up and the high cost of his mother's hospital care, he _had_ to have committed the crime. I only assumed his family loaned from the wrong people and got into trouble.

"You're not a legal adult," I hummed, raising an eyebrow at him. "Who's looking after you?"

"Well, you met her already. I was staying at Lien's place until they gave me to you. She's not exactly pleasant to be with, but she's badass as hell."

"And that's where you went to yesterday when you skipped class, only to return home with your things," I said in a not-so-questioning tone.

Alfred gave a sheepish smile in reply.

"You're not skipping detention today," I declared as I gave him the rest of my food, realizing that he was still hungry after his fifth burger.

"Oh come on," he groaned, his lower lip sticking out as he gave me a pleading look with his bright azure eyes. "Literature's a boring class anyway," he grumbled, crossing his arms to his chest. _Can you believe this overgrown child?_

"I'm expecting you to get at least a 95 in Literature," I declared. "You shouldn't be holding back on your skills because it's an insult to everyone else who tries so hard in that class."

"I can get an 87 at best," he pouted. "I'm not getting any more than that. I'm sick tragedies. They're filled with people fucking up and dying, and then people call them _heroes._" _Did he just _try_ to insult Shakespearean tragedy?_

Before I could ask another question, my phone rang, causing Alfred to look up and wipe the pout off his face, asking me who was calling. Instead of giving a reply, I sighed as I answered my phone. Alfred immediately took a seat beside me, pressing his ear close to the phone.

"Morgan?" I breathed and attempted to use my other hand to push Alfred away.

"_Oh hi Arthur, listen, we're going to have to pull you out of class today. We need you and Alfred working on a task, and I think it'll be an excellent way of introducing him to what we do."_ At that, Alfred jumped up in celebration as he realized he'd have to skip the after-school detention he was required to attend to. The whole cafeteria madness came to a halt, the students casting glances in our direction as I covered my face in embarrassment due to the attention Alfred was drawing.

_"Do tell the mutt to calm down for me, sweetheart."_

I chuckled, rubbing my temples with my thumb and forefinger. "Will that be his nickname now?"

"_It seems like it, doesn't it? Great, now I feel bad. Do tell him I'm sorry if he heard me. Anyway, expect a call from your office a few minutes from now. We'll brief you on the task once you arrive home."_

"Goodbye Lisa."

_"Goodbye Iggy."_

* * *

The ride home from school was long and silent as Morgan and Aiden briefed us on the task that had been assigned to us. It was a simple task of retrieving something that had originally belonged to a rich businessman, although it was apparently not as simple as it would be displayed in front of hundreds of guests at a cruise ship that was scheduled to sail during the estimated time of departure that was at six o'clock, in time to avoid an oncoming storm.

Morgan fell asleep beside me and with the conversationalist asleep; the car ride had been painfully boring and silent, except for the Led Zeppelin which softly played on the radio. Unable to stand the boredom, I fidgeted in my seat in some attempt to make myself comfortable as I leaned my head on the car door and looked out the window, observing the blurring surroundings as I waited for sleep to come. Looking up, the beautiful, cloudless, cerulean sky this morning had quickly turned a stormy shade of grey, with tiny water droplets began falling.

Arriving home, I found Alastair with a not-so-amused expression, as he was left to prepare the weapons, proper attires, and paperwork in order for us to complete the mission. We were told to assume under the identities of Dylan Ashford and Alexander Pearson; Dylan was the son of a wealthy foreign investor and was told to establish relations with his one of his father's business partner's children, who was Alexander Pearson. How bland.

"Well?" Alastair spoke as he puffed out smoke he inhaled from the cigar he held between his thumb and index finger. "Go put on your makeup, your highness."

With a roll of my eyes, I stomped up the stairs, not even waiting for Alfred to follow. Assuming the role of an aristocrat was such a boring role. I would have to look even more prim and proper, using expensive cologne that possessed a scent which constricted my throat. I would have to cover up old wounds and scars through the power of makeup, caking my skin with cold cream. Expensive men's jewellery would be required, and although some people would indulge the situation of getting pampered, the only necessities I truly saw as essential were clothes, daily showers, a roof over my head, and at least one meal per day.

Barging into Morgan's room, I searched for any possible container with a liquid which had the ability to conceal the imperfections on my skin that matched my skin tone. Staring at the black box which contained all her makeup essentials, I picked up a bottle and examined it suspiciously. On the label was printed the words "BB Cream."

BB Cream? Beauty Balm Cream?

As I continued to read the label, it was said to be able to work as primer, foundation and concealer, all at once. I didn't bother reading the label any longer, choosing to apply the creamy solution on my fingers and smearing it on my face. The cream was of an ivory shade similar to my skin and its delicate scent was similar to that of roses.

Just then, Morgan barged in with Alfred in tow, his brow arched at the sight of me holding some sort of cosmetic. Morgan let out a groan as she snatched the bottle from my hands and placed it back in her black box filled with other cosmetics. "No, Arthur, I can't let you half-arse this one. There will be tonnes of people and socializing will be required. You _must_ look rich and fancy," she scolded. _Wasn't that what I was doing in the first place?_

I blinked. "Did I…by any chance…do something wrong?" I asked slowly.

"Arthur you look like a ghost! Why is your face so pale?" Alfred exclaimed in a horrified tone. _So what if I applied a little too much? Like you could do any better, arsehole._

Morgan sighed, grabbing my hand and shoving Alfred and I into the communal bathroom. "Get in the tub," she ordered. Before Alfred and I could let out a noise of protest, she growled. "Tub. NOW."

Despite being fully dressed, Alfred let out a tiny squeak before doing what Morgan instructed. Following after him, I sat in the tub beside him, clenching my fists as Morgan forced us to turn our back towards her.

She began with Alfred, pulling his hair so she had him staring up at the ceiling. The back of his head met a basin filled with water as Morgan shampooed his hair while spitting out a few grumbles here and there. After a few minutes, she began rinsing his hair and once done, she ordered him to exfoliate his face. Whatever that meant, I have no clue, although I believed I would find out soon enough.

To say I was surprised at how Alfred responded was an understatement. His eyes lit up as soon as Morgan had uttered the word 'exfoliate,' and smiled happily as he ran to the sink, removing his glasses as he began washing his face. He hummed as he poured some sort of scented liquid on what seemed like a pad with a rough, spongy texture, and began rubbing it on his face. "Do you want me to blow-dry my hair too, or will you style my hair as well?"

Pulling my hair roughly, she began washing it as well, her eyes glinting as she smiled at Alfred. "You do that, Al," she sang. Her hands pausing with my hair, she blinked for a few seconds before staring up at Alfred. "Go for the rugged look since you have too much of a baby face already."

"No combing?"

"Finger-comb it, sweetie; you're hair needs to be soft and untangled," she replied as her hands quickly resumed with massaging my scalp.

"D'you mind if I use that wide-toothed comb?"

"Please do, and once your hair's dry, part your hair by flipping it to the side."

"Wouldn't it look swept then?"

Morgan chuckled lowly. "It would look perfect."

I shuddered inwardly as they began discussing things involving personal pampering. Upon speculation, I realized that Alfred might just be as vain as Morgan. It made sense for just yesterday, while checking underneath the beds in the room which had previously belonged to me [and was currently the room I shared with Alfred], I found certain bottles filled with suspicious liquids. At first glance, I assumed it was poison, until I examined one of the bottles and found it to be vanilla-scented.

I questioned Morgan with an annoyed tone as to why she chose to wash my hair with freezing water. How I received the response, however, was rather interesting as she told me in a scolding, yet informative tone that it was so that it would retain the moisture and natural oil in my hair and keep it "oh so silky smooth."

The process of looking prim and proper was such a tedious process. It took long for me to become the student council president, Arthur Kirkland, and even more to become Dylan Ashford.

* * *

The exfoliation treatment, or so Morgan called it, was quite the unexpected experience. The rough surface of the foam scratched on my skin, and although my skin wasn't delicate, it certainly wasn't used to the rough treatment. Exfoliation left my skin feeling raw, and from what I could tell through taking a swift glance at the mirror, my face was an odd shade of scarlet. Exfoliation wasn't painful; I've gotten cuts, stitches, and bruises on my face before, but I did find the experience rather annoying. Would I do it again if I had the choice? No, definitely not.

It wasn't until minutes later when I found out what Morgan had used on my hair which left it soft and obedient, rather than messy and all over the place. It was olive oil, mixed with egg and honey. No wonder she took such a long time focusing on my hair.

Morgan had us tie our fringes up with a tiny hair tie in order to prevent it from getting in the way of adding cosmetics to our faces. For some reason, it made me feel relieved that Alfred had as much knowledge about makeup as I did.

As she worked on adding copious amounts of concealer on the tiny scar on my forehead, which was a product of the tagging process I—we Kirklands, went through as children. The scar was small enough to be hidden, although large enough to define my identity in the past. _IX_, it read – the Roman numeral for the ninth number.

"That was quite the scarring experience," Morgan mused as she patted the scar, feeling the uneven surface of it jutting out the shape of the number.

"Puns, really?" I deadpanned.

"You could always get the scar removed, you know?"

"My skin scars so perfectly that I doubt even laser treatment could do anything about it. Besides," I said, staring up at her, "it's an excellent reminder of the past."

Instead of replying, Morgan decided to keep her mouth sealed, pressed into a thin line, as she continued working on concealing the imperfections on my skin. After managing to hide the several cuts near my jaw, she proceeded with getting rid of the dark circles that had formed underneath my eyes and smoothing out the tiny creases near my eyes, caused by the stress of the job.

After all was set and done regarding the imperfections on my complexion, Morgan decided to comb my hair back with the aid of styling wax, a few stubborn baby strands at the corners adorning my face as they remained on my forehead. She then gave Alfred a onceover, deciding that he was fine with the light freckles sprayed across his nose and cheeks.

Pushing us out of the bathroom, she shoved us into our rooms where our suits, ironed to a crisp perfection, hung in our closets. My suit was sleek black, the fabric feeling soft yet strong to the touch—definitely Italian made, most likely tailored to fit my build. As much as I hated looking rich, the luxury of wearing expensive clothing instead of ratty fabrics with a texture similar to that of a potato sack that were a pathetic excuse for clothes were definitely something I enjoyed.

Undressing, my fingers lingered over the other scar, this time underneath my right collarbone where the word _Kirkland_ was branded on my skin, the letters a reddish hue. Before any unwanted musings regarding the scars filled my mind, I shook my head and shrugged on the creaseless shirt, hastily buttoning it before picking out a grey tie with embroidered gold and acid green designs and tying it using a complex cape knot. I placed on the suit before heading quickly to my bed where several pieces of men's jewellery were kept in a black box padded and covered with black velvet.

Pulling out a silver cuff, I placed it on one of my many piercings before I was interrupted with a tap to my shoulder. I turned around to see Alfred wearing his suit, with a sheepish grin on his face as he continued to struggle with his tie which was now crumpled in his hands.

"Whoa, that looks complicated," Alfred said with rounded eyes, his pupils large as he poked my tie with interest. "Help?" he said, sounding more like a question as he chuckled.

Clicking my tongue, I heaved a theatrical sigh before pulling the wrinkled tie away from his hands and replacing it with a gold tie decorated with embroidered swirls of silver and azure that matched his baby blue shirt and his grey suit. Taking his jacket off, I placed it near my bed before I began working on tying an eternity knot, tugging and pulling as I became oblivious to Alfred's presence until he was a little too close for comfort.

"Are you tying a different knot?" I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks as I remained staring at his tie, frozen and unable to focus.

_Come on, Arthur, snap out of it!_

My biggest mistake would have been when I stared up, finding myself drawn to his electrifying blue eyes. Heat found its way onto my cheeks, staining it with a faint scarlet hue. I cleared my throat, nodding before I got back to working on his tie.

With shaky fingers, it took me two attempts to finish tying the knot. With my fingers still on his tie, Alfred held it up to examine it, smiling. "It looks perfect! Thanks!"

I quickly withdrew my hand from his grip and stumbled back, returning to what I previously did which was, uh, accessorizing. With two gold cuffs and a silver cuff in one ear and one gold cuff and two silvers in the other, I picked out an Omega, water resistant watch with an 18K rose gold case and black leather strap. Slipping on a ring pistol on my left hand, I felt that I overdid with the accessories and decided to have Alfred wear my favourite accessory instead.

"Your hand," I mumbled, pulling his left hand, only to find a white gold ring on his ring finger. That ring didn't belong to any of us.

"It's my mom's," Alfred said. "I fixed it so that I could wear it."

With a sigh, I pulled his other hand and opened the ring, showing him how it worked and how it was loaded. Closing the gun, I slipped it on his right ring finger, glad to see that it fit perfectly, as I normally wore the ring on my thumb. "It's rare since it's a seven-shot instead of the usual five or six-shot. It's also antique and French-made, but as you can see, it's restored to perfect, working condition. You should be flattered that I'm letting you wear something that special." _Considering how I _stole_ it from a certain Frenchman who happened to be my sister's lover, and how I hate him so much, thus, making me feel proud that I stole something special from him._

Alfred blinked, realizing what I told him. With a thankful smile, he gave me a tiny hug before darting out of the room before I even had time to examine how he looked.

* * *

**I am so absolutely fucking sorry that I suck so bad at this. Things aren't going well right now for me, though, the chocolate's helping. Maybe I'll just eat my way until the sadness is dulled away by the sweetness. I hope you had a happy Halloween.**

**Maybe I'll write a Halloween event or something. I don't know, what do you think?**

**I'll tell you what, the first...I don't know, three people (if I even get that much?) to review will get a preview of the next chapter in their inbox. I know this fic's boring, and bland, and terrible, but I'm really doing my best. I'm just so sorry. And I love you guys for even reading this bullshit. It makes me extremely happy that some people actually read it. **

**~Reilley**


	10. Chapterette II: Allied Relations

**I lied. The preview I sent to you guys was a chapterette's. Why? Because it didn't necessarily fit with the **mission arc, which, by the way, triggers an attachment Arthur develops for Alfred** [Spoiler ALERT?]. Patience, my dears. Also, let's pretend my sudden fit of emotional lack of professionalism never occurred and get on with the unedited shit I write.**

_**Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya**_

* * *

Meeting everyone in the game room, they told us that there was a change in plans; we were now required to retrieve two objects to be displayed—correction: _auctioned_ at an evening event on the ship which meant that we were meant to stay on board for a few hours, rather than snatching the objects and leaving as quickly as possible. More importantly, the objects were both very fine pieces of jewellery, one antique, custom-designed Bulgari ring with a rare blue diamond made in the 1960s, and a diamond gold necklace made in the 1930s.

"Even without a professional appraisal, it must be worth around 200K if not more and oh my word, those are seven round cut diamonds in the center and the necklace must be covered with at least seven hundred smaller diamonds," Morgan squealed as she continued staring at the picture on her phone, her eyes twinkling as she continued to admire the object we were supposed to retrieve. "That's so fucking beautiful," she said with a dreamy sigh as she stroked the screen of her phone.

"You could get yourself one that's custom-made. We can definitely afford it," Aiden pointed out as he eyed the stunning piece of jewellery with almost the same interest on the tiny screen.

Morgan scowled at him and crossed her arms, handing him the phone. "It's made in the 1930s, so that totally adds to the value. If I get one that's custom-made, then that gets rid of the _age_ that adds worth to it! Plus, you know how much I hate replicas. I'd rather get the real thing," she sighed. "Besides, I'd rather someone give it to me than I get it for myself."

"Good point," Aiden smiled as he stared at her with an impressed smile, fist-bumping her. _Was that what people called it? Fist-bumping?_ "The girl receiving it's a lucky bitch," he mumbled, his tone filled with jealousy.

Niles walked over, slapping him upside the head with a roll of his eyes as he walked over and sat beside me on the couch across from them. "So gay," he muttered as he fished out his phone, his eyes fixated on the device.

"Says you," Aiden shot.

At that, Niles simply sighed and shook his head as he stared at his reflection on his phone. "'Scuse you, but the only one I'm gay for is myself. I mean I'm so hot I could fuck me," he smirked, winking at Aiden.

"How long to we have to wait?" Alfred wailed impatiently as he sat on the carpeted floor and began toying with his tie. "Not that I don't appreciate good clothes, but I'm kind of uncomfortable wearing leather shoes and expensive brands. I don't like owing anyone."

"Just don't break 'em, kid," Niles said. "Don't steal anythin' either. The Kirklands don't give out favours."

"We're just waiting for Alastair to fetch the limo and you'll be good to go," Aiden replied.

After a moment of silence, Alfred shuffled uneasily until he decided to lie down on the floor. Morgan must have noticed his restlessness and decided to speak. "You know, if you want to say something, it's not like we're restricting you from doing so."

"Well…"

"Spit it out before I force it out of you," Niles sighed, seeming disinterested to say the least.

"I don't know, I just… We're all good, right? I mean, a few nights ago, in this same room, the two of you had guns pointed to my head and now, you guys are treating me like I'm your friend," he stared down, uncomfortable of everyone's eyes on him.

The twins stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into a roaring fit of laughter. I joined as well, chuckling lowly. For a few seconds, laughter filled the room before dying down into tiny giggles that came from Aiden.

"Personality-wise, yes, we do get along," Niles nodded. "You're tolerable."

"But that doesn't mean anything," Morgan smiled, venom dripping in her voice. I thought that side of Morgan had mellowed down, but I was wrong. Morgan was a person of bright smiles, using them to mask the sufferings she's been through in the past.

"Arthur can you fucking believe this guy? He thinks we can trust him that easily," Aiden said between his giggles. Similar to Morgan, Aiden possessed a bright personality. He was a man of spirit, always looking down on others with a condescending smirk, or with a laughter sure to insult the person meant to receive the laughter. Growing up, he was always the one being laughed at for his clumsiness and physical inability to perform tasks that Niles did, but his strength was the vast amounts of information he stored in his brain. Now, he was the one laughing down on others, as he was intellectually superior like Alfred.

Alfred looked at me, desperate for an answer that made sense. I stared at him back, nodding. "We're all good, but we don't trust you."

Sitting with my legs crossed on the couch, everyone waited with an intense impatience for Alastair to arrive. The sudden change of plans brought a sour mood to everyone's night. This wasn't the first time it had occurred; that there was a change in plans, although we still couldn't help but be aggravated. This situation was rather special as we were given only a small margin of time to make changes and adjust. It wasn't as though we actually made changes; we simply enjoyed telling our clients how the changes would bring us inconvenience.

The client did apologize profusely and had informed us that he arranged an escape route in order to aid us, meaning that instead of me worrying about an escape route, the rest of the Kirklands would have to worry about making sure that we would be able to follow said escape route. The mission has just turned from a one or two-man task, to a full team task. Of course we were aggravated.

Alastair appeared on the doorway, with his arms crossed and a cigar in his mouth. "Get in the car, losers. We've shit to do," he grumbled before heading upstairs.

* * *

**Meh it's more of a filler, if anything. I'll update once more this month, so fret not. I love you guys. Also, what do you think of the characters so far? I seem to have developed some form of hatred towards Morgan/Lisa.**

**Reviews are fabulous and they keep me going.**

**~Reilley**


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